#TWO THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED SIXTY WORDS YOU GUYS

[beigetiger]

Kind of a continuation of this post, but I want to talk about fascism in Skulduggery Pleasant and how it’s handled, especially since it’s so relevant to our world at the moment (escapism through books? Never!) and because my interest has been captured by the way that this series clearly lays out impacting factors, where everything comes from, how it gets worse, and so on. Lot of stuff to handle, and I’m actually going to try and organize this beforehand instead of just vomiting words into my phone. I’ll also give you all the text cut of mercy.

I might have mentioned this before, but phase 2 (and by the looks of it, phase 3) depict and focus on fascism within their societies. There are several examples of this in phase 2 alone.

For example, Mevolent is introduced back in Kingdom of the Wicked, but the reality of living in a society ruled by him is most properly shown in Seasons of War. His society seems almost perfect for the sorcerers that live within it, but that’s only because those who didn’t fit the mold perfectly were killed. He has thought police and is personally able to track what his subjects are thinking about. And, of course, the Leibniz sorcerers dehumanize, oppress, and enslave their mortals because it’s all they’ve ever been taught to do. This particular flavour of society is probably least reflected in our current society of all the examples that I’m going to talk about, so I’m not too stressed about this one.

There’s also Martin Flanery, the very unsubtle stand-in for Trump. I’m mid about him as a character, but I think the series did a good job showcasing the difference between Creed, who’s calm and calculated and takes advantage of his follower’s rage, and Flanery, who feels and acts upon his rage just as much as any of his followers, while also showing that Flanery is still a threat. His lack of calculation doesn’t make him an easier opponent to defeat, it just makes him more of a wild card. And his soldiers are very much a reflection of this as well. Flanery’s soldiers use Splashes to become stronger but often have roid rage as a result, and they constantly get into fights and kill each other, causing incredible collateral damage in the process. The cops who worked under Creed, on the other hand, tended to be a lot colder, sneakier, and all-around more strategic, reflecting the climate that they’re thriving in. This isn’t just limited to Flanery, but this series also does a really good job at depicting the sheer idolization that these literal fascists are regarded with by their subjects and how it effects others.

But enough of that, I’m now going to talk about the whole reason I decided to write this stupid thing: Roarhaven and sorcerer culture as a whole.

Roarhaven post LSoDM has a whole bunch of factors impacting it and it’s social development, but one of the more major ones is sorcerers finally being given a place to be themselves and develop their own culture as opposed to just adopting whatever the mortals are currently doing. Sorcerers didn’t really have much of an individual culture for hundreds and hundreds of years because they intentionally repressed themselves so that mortals wouldn’t find out about them and possibly try to fight them. There was some slight amount of culture in places like when Roarhaven was a tiny village or those streets that are entirely owned by sorcerers, but those places were often bitter and in poverty in order to make themselves go under the radar, and so would only have offered comfort to certain kinds of sorcerers who just want others that they feel understand them.

But although the Sanctuaries may agree that silence and repression of diversity is the correct way to go about their lives, it’s extremely clear that there are many sorcerers who disagree with that (see Mevolent and his followers) and it’s clear that the Sanctuaries never bothered to stamp these disagreers out entirely as Mevolent did to his, only punishing them if they tried to reveal themselves to the mortals. This left these people alive to spread their ideologies to others.

And as I said earlier, the war that covered nearly the entire planet and was somehow kept from mortals for hundreds of years is also a huge factor for sorcerers. Between that and the inter-Sanctuary war, nearly the entire sorcerer population is a war veteran who was stood witness to or even committed absolutely sickening acts that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. They have nearly nothing resembling actual functional therapy and PTSD is probably incredibly common among the population. The Corrival kids, the ones too young to have been in war, have had to grow up in these environments and being raised by these people, and we see so clearly in phase 2 just how much generational trauma impacts people and ruins uncountable numbers of lives. Sorcerers also pretty much never die of old age. A select few of them live to be old, yes, but even they always die violently. There is no peaceful or happy ending for sorcerers, their lives are dark from the beginning through to the end, even to the point where the knowledge that they’re going to die acts as a comfort instead of a curse.

The sorcerers have also watched mortals commit countless genocides and acts of horrific discrimination and destruction and have been unable to do anything about it due to this idea enforced by their governments that they cannot interfere with the affairs of mortals, and that the mortals must simply learn to be better on their own. Hell, a lot of sorcerers have probably been directly impacted by these genocides, and their friends were probably tormented by the fact that they could do nothing about it. And due to their lack of culture and overall opportunity to do these things over the years because of the war, many of the sorcerers (especially the students who weren’t soldiers) start to feel just a little too good about themselves and their people, pointing out that they’ve never done things like that while failing to realize that the reason they’ve never really done that is because they’ve never been given an opportunity to do so.

And of course in modern times, there are issues like climate change, impending war, and increasing discrimination that sorcerers still aren’t allowed to do anything about despite living in the same world and still being impacted by, leading to a sort of “I wonder if things would be better if we were in charge”, as discussed often by Corrival kids and sometimes the Sanctuary workers. They’ve all heard of Dimension X of course, but those who don’t straight up agree with what Mevolent was doing either justify the thought by claiming that they’ve seen his mistakes and could do it better (introspection, anyone?) or, in the case of people like Valkyrie, just shake off the thought and tell themselves that it would never work out in practice.

And how sorcerers view mortals, even the supposedly good sorcerers, is also an important thing to consider here. There are, of course, sorcerers like Nefarian who have a cartoon villain view on mortals and think of them as little more than cattle, but there are more nuanced ways of thinking about mortals that are still not actually that great. In HBL, Ghastly talks about how he’s worse than mortals because he’s been given this gift that elevates him to some status above them, and yet also chooses to compete in wars for seemingly no end. And that’s the thing, this way that he subtly thinks of mortals as simple creatures who don’t understand the glory of the world as he does, who’s actions are understandable because how could they ever know better?

I also think that Valkyrie’s perception of mortals is fascinating because of how we get to see it evolves over time. When Val is fourteen or so, she actively rejects the term “mortal” because she sees it as dehumanizing and elevating of the sorcerers to a higher status. But as she grows older and becomes more attached to sorcerer society as opposed to mortal society, she stops complaining about the term and begins to adopt that mindset that so many other sorcerers have of almost being a shepherd. Instead of protecting mortals for the sake of keeping other people safe, it sometimes feels more like a duty to keeping the livestock alive more than anything else, and she actively refers to mortals as bumbling fools who get themselves killed unnecessarily in HBL.

Now, this is where Roarhaven as a city actually starts to come into play. After all, it lends sorcerers an entire city away from the prying eyes of mortals, and there’s nothing that actually makes them go back to interact with them. They can just live in the city forever and have all the resources they need. But spending so long away from and never interacting with the mortals they’re supposed to protect leads to disconnection with them from the sorcerers. The sorcerers see their city as cleaner, nicer, more organized, and overall better than anything the mortals could possibly create. Sorcerers live longer lives, are more open-minded, are stronger and capable of doing more, and so they must be better than those foolish mortals who become more close-minded as they get older.

And of course the Sanctuary is supposed to disagree with this sentiment (emphasis on supposed), but it doesn’t really matter because the Faceless Ones worshipers who have been saying this for hundreds of years and haven’t been stamped out by the government get to spread this idea around to their fellow citizens, who refuse to go back and actually reconnect with the mortals. It’s like how fast transphobia spreads among those who don’t actually know any trans people; the lack of ability to disprove the information and ideas you are being given causes them to become real to you.

And now for the children, who have less life experience and even less memories of mortals than the adults do. The students are easy to leave imprints on, and we’ve already seen how even the best intentioned kids express some anti-mortal sentiments. They know that their world is dying and it’s the mortals faults. They’ve grown up in this world being told over and over that they are better and wiser than mortals, and have been taught by their parents and by each other to view mortals as mayflies. Nothing more than insects. Even people like Omen wondered if maybe things would be better if they simply took over. Quietly took the world off the mortal government’s hands and into their own, where their everlasting wisdom can lead them to a better future. Because the kids don’t remember what the war was like, and it leads them to be disconnected from their parents. And that leads them to find affirmation among each other instead, at a boarding school where they almost never see their families and where even the teachers will indulge in anti-mortal sentiments. It’s such an easy rabbit hole for them to fall into, especially since Roarhaven hasn’t developed any sort of system to keep the kids up to date with the world and politics outside of Roarhaven, and so they just learn from each other.

And the reason that Roarhaven’s government isn’t able to do much about the children turning towards fascism is because the government kind of sucks. They have this idea that they don’t need things like lawyers because they have mind-readers and lawyers are a measly mortal invention while failing to consider the fact that lawyers exist to make sure that rights are being followed. Except that I’m not actually sure that the sorcerers have anything like rights outside of loosely following what mortals have, since police brutality seems incredibly common and the cops seem allowed to just do whatever they please. They also have nothing like a democratic system and their top governors can be easily put under influence by someone with money (e.g. China and Damocles).

There’s definitely more I could say to point this out, but I think it’s already clear enough (hell, it’s even discussed in the series itself) that the Sanctuary’s current government system is corrupt, outdated, and leaves room for dictators and fascists to take over and for the people to continue harming each other with no end in sight and needs to be replaced with something that would allow sorcerers as a whole to grow from the trauma that has brought them ruin for hundreds of years and maybe even finally help to create a better world for everyone.

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Case

Summary: it was your last class you had to get credit for before you were able to become a wizarding world public defender. Six years after you left Hogwarts. Now all that stood between you and your future was one professor and an open case you were tasked with closing.

A/N: *emerges from the void* who's ready for another Draco series? I don't know how long this will be and there's barely a plan but I'm too excited to not write this and share it with you guys. I've missed yall. How are you?

Dr. Dresden was one of the hardest professors standing between me and my new career as a public defender. I had heard rumors about the students that had dropped the entire career path after one meeting with him. Fatefully avoiding him until now there was nothing that I could do. He was the last credited course I needed: the professor who gave out real unsettled cases for us to work through. All of the names were changed for anonymity but we were still expected to close the case. 

Walking to the ornately carved door I took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Come in,” I heard his gravelly voice. 

I opened the door, a polite smile on my face. Dr. Dresden could have been sixty eight or three hundred and four and there would be no telling. His wispy white hair was coiffed carefully and his ancient blue eyes hid behind thick bifocals. His face was permanently pinched in a pensive expression, as if the years of untangling court cases altered the way he had aged. His tweed suit was immaculately clean and like the rest of his office was probably never changing. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” He greeted. 

“Professor,” 

“Come, sit.” He chose his words so carefully, as if the world wasn’t worth the extra effort to form complete sentences. 

I sat without saying a word. What did you say to someone like him? He knew he held my future in his hands and all I had to do was survive. It was one court case. I had done thousands up until now. 

We were at an impasse. 

Still saying nothing, he pulled out a thick envelope out of one of his desk drawers and set it on his desk in front of me. 

“Four o’clock Tuesday.” He said. “I expect to see progress.” 

“Yes sir,” I took the envelope in my hands. 

“That’s all.” 

Nodding I stood, inhaling deeply. The weight of the bulky folder in my hands held the weight of my future and somehow I thought it would be heavier. 

“And Miss Y/l/n?” He called before I left his office, my hand on the doorknob. 

I turned. 

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m very interested to see what becomes of you,” There was almost a smile on his face and I didn’t know whether to take his words as a compliment or a looming threat. 

“Yes Professor,” I nodded a goodbye and left his office. 

Drawing my wand I apperated back home, walking up the steps of my building, unlocking it, feeling the safety behind the closed door. 

My apartment in Epsom was just far enough away from the city that I didn’t feel suffocated. It was quiet, quaint, with locals who knew me from working my way through law school at a local restaurant. A wizard community had been here since the 1200s and they never really left. Of course they were all skeptical when I moved in at the end of my undergrad, but now it was like I had lived here all my life. 

Setting the folder on my four seater little dining table, I switched a couple of lights on. 

Tuesday was my first deadline. It was in two days. What had he expected me to accomplish in two days? I could have the case memorized and thousands of books filled with ancient wizard laws that applied but without names or locations, I couldn’t make progress. 

A sigh left my lips. 

I was getting ahead of myself. 

The folder taunted me on the table as I made dinner and poured a drink. It was time to get to work. 

Pulling out fresh parchment, quill and ink, I opened the folder. 

It was a War case. They were common. Those who may or may not have been associated with Voldemort and his followers; all looking to be acquitted. I scanned the cover page. The wizard or witch’s name was changed to a number. 

They were the child of a death eater and had taken the mark themselves during this war. They were charged with the murder of a very important wizard: whose name I also didn’t have. The wizard confessed to the crime, but the case was still open despite the confession. 

That was odd. 

My dinner was forgotten as I ruffled through the pages trying to figure out why this case was still open despite having the confession on record. Then there were the ballistics from the Aurors of the wizard’s wand. A killing curse was never cast. 

“Oh,” I sat back. “Okay,” This was interesting. Really interesting. 

How could a wizard under veritaserum confess to a crime his wand didn’t commit? 

The wizard killed was killed by the Unforgivable curse. 

I started reading through the witness statements versus the wizard’s own personal statements. The wizard claimed that everyone there who had witnessed the crime had died in the war. The witness statements I did have were character testaments—all claiming they believed the wizard was possible of such an act. 

At the very bottom of the folder was one last witness statement. 

Words I would never forget. 

Words that I gave an Auror six years ago. 

I knew this case. 

I knew this wizard. 

And after a few minutes, I had every witness named.

This was the case of Draco Malfoy.

.

the defendant

.

@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz@crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco  @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms   @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston    

@jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog  @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel  @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora

[ggoojjoo]

21:44

– pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

– contains: angst with a little comfort, timeskip!oikawa, mentions of kissing

– wc: 1,0k

– note: had the sudden urge to write haikyuu angst lol also a bit of a warm-up

Your steps were light as you walked through the neighborhood that had once brought you two together– the same that also separated you both years ago. Tooru was happily looking around the street he once called home, his ice cream almost done as it dripped into the makeshift bowl he had folded with the plastic. 

It had been a few weeks since he’d been back in Japan when he found you at one of his favorite restaurants, but before he was able to talk to you, people swarmed around him asking for pictures and signatures. To his luck, he saw you again, though in the old, worn-down convenience store he so often visited in his highschool years. He never thought of himself as a nervous guy until he was about to talk to you. After so many years. 

“Remember how we used to take apples from that old guy’s tree over there,” he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder with a grin as he expectantly looked at you. “Always had to run away from him.” His eyes shone in the dim lightning of the streetlamp as he giggled softly. 

He changed, not personality wise, but optically. His features held a type of experience that had to be earned, the hardships he went through to be where he is now. He looked… different, not the young and vibrant Tooru you knew, you loved. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking a bite out of your sweet treat. A heavy exhale left your tight lungs, a sudden coldness washing over you. “He,” you hesitated, “he isn’t here anymore.” Tooru looked at you with a horrified expression, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Immediately you lifted your hands, frantically shaking your head. “No, not like that.” A shadow of a smile passed your lips as you heard him sigh in relief. “He’s still very much alive, but not here. His daughter got him into a nursing home. She said that he’s too weak to look after himself alone,” you explained, shooting a glance towards the fading house. 

Tooru nodded silently, staring straight ahead as he realized it. “How long?”

“It’s been almost a year.” A year. Three-hundred-sixty-five days. He’s been gone for three, a little over one thousand days. He hummed, nodding softly. “I’ve been visiting him here and there,” you chuckled softly. “Still eats those apples like they’re his last.”

“(Y/N),” he whispered, stopping as you walked a few steps forward before turning to him. “I’m… It’s been so long,” he mumbled. Your smile faded slightly, nodding at his words. “It feels like it was yesterday,” you heard a soft quiver in his words. 

“I know,” you assured him. “Time passes, and that’s fine.” It’s not fine, it never was. “You had a dream. You reached it and that’s what matters.” It was so easy for you to assume that there isn’t something more to Tooru’s dreams. “I’m happy for you.”

He shook his head, a somber look in his eyes. He didn’t see you as you, he saw you as the girl that barely finished puberty he had left behind to selfishly pursue his dreams. And for what, to play with a damn ball? “I left everyone behind,” he muttered, the rest of the ice cream dropping onto the ground with a wet splat, leaving only the stick between his fingers. “I left you behind.” He desperately wanted to hug you, like the old times, like he used to when he saw you after classes. It felt like he was back in time again.

Giggles filled the small equipment closet as you two fooled around. “Tooru, someone will walk in,” you whispered through happy giggles as his lithe fingers tickled your soft skin under your shirt. Your back was pressed against the wall opposite to the door with Tooru’s back turned to it. His jersey was still sticky from the sweat he shed from the intense training he went through. “And you’re disgusting,” you whined, earning a little giggle from the boy as he kissed his jaw and cheek. 

You were the one waiting for him by the side lines to finish training. Often playing around with his teammates or teaching you how to serve the ball. 

“Follow the ball with your eyes and your feet will do the rest on their own,” he muttered in your ear as he crowded you between his arms. Big hands covered yours as you held the ball, cool to the touch. “You toss it up,” he pushed your arms up. “And now you follow the ball.” 

He was so happy for you as you perfectly hit the bottle on the other side of the net, kissing you like it will be the last time. 

Soon, it was the last time.

“What,” you whispered, the wind picking up and drowning out any noise. Except his voice. Nothing could drown out his voice. “You’re leaving?” Tooru wouldn’t look at you, his hands  tight by his sides as they trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“So, you thought hiding this from me was better than just telling me? Tooru, look at me,” you demanded. “Look at me, please.” He wished he didn’t. Anything was better than seeing what he was seeing now. Tears were forming in the very eyes that he fell in love with, the same eyes that looked at him with so much adoration every time he scored a point, the same eyes that glared at him when he did something annoying.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you muttered softly, shaking your head. “I’m happy for you, Tooru. That won’t change any time, not now, not ever.” How could you still be so forgiving after what he put you through. 

“But I promised,” he whispered.

“I know,” you nodded. “You’re fine.” 

A long moment of silence hovered between you two before Tooru decided to break it. “I’m here for another week,” he said, tilting his head. “Would you like to spend it with me?” His heart was in his throat as he watched your expression change. 

“I don’t see why not.” Your answer made him sigh in relief, laughing softly as he reached out to wrap his arms around you.

His low hum rumbled through his chest as he tightened his arms around you. “I missed you.”

@ggoojjoo | ©️ do not steal or plagiarize

i do not own the haikyuu!! franchise nor the characters!

[ougougougoug]

😅👉🏽

this is a haiku that uses just two symbols.

so, let me explain:

(while editing this post i found out that a few emojis i use are not supported on certain browsers. clearly im being silenced.

if you paste them in discord, then they should display, otherwise, suffer?)

haikus are simple, but have a rigid structure, which is why they’re fun. just five syllables, then seven, then five again, arranged in three lines.

what I think is fun is what I like to call a ‘minimal haiku,' which is where you try to use as few symbols as possible to write all three lines of a haiku. so, for example, we start with numbers.

7 is so cool everybody likes 7 7 is funky

in this haiku here, although '7' is only one symbol, it counts as two syllables, because that's how it's pronounced. so, obviously, we can just kind of run with that, right?

so here is the smallest haiku i think you can make using numbers in this way.

here is the haiku:

77 707 77

"seventy seven seven hundred and seven seventy seven"

this haiku uses (fittingly) seven symbols, but it kind of sucks. we're playing fast and loose with what we're calling a haiku, but it would still be nice if the minimal haikus we wrote kind of, at least, sort of made sense, i think.

so here's the smallest haiku i have written so far using only numbers and letters.

alright, here is the haiku:

33 x 3 funny 700x 69 ha ha

"thirty three times three funny seven hundred times sixty nine ha ha"

its not exactly high art, but it's technically comprehensible as a series of words that express a full thought, and that's good enough.

obviously, you can go further than this, and the next logical step is ascii. I don't think there's any ascii symbols that can be pronounced as seven syllables, but there are a few that can do five.

so here's the smallest haiku i could make using just ascii symbols:

) :) !

"close parentheses colon, close parentheses exclamation mark"

wow! just four symbols, which tell the relatable story of a guy who wakes up and sees that he's slept through his alarm. (it conveys this thought pictorially, but it does convey a thought.)

of course, we can go further.

our next stop is emojis.

now, one thing that's problematic about these is that not everyone might agree on how they should be pronounced, but i say we just play with this, and use whatever makes our haikus work, because, well, it's more fun that way.

so, here's a fun haiku:

🌑 🌓 🌕

"new moon emoji first quarter moon emoji full moon emoji"

wow! just three symbols.

here's a haiku about a working class trans girl:

🧑‍🏭 👩‍🏭 ⚧️

"factory worker woman factory worker transgender symbol"

so, we've managed to make some haikus with just three symbols. but i think we can go smaller.

ive been limiting myself to writing haikus with three visible lines when written down, but you can't do that with just two symbols. so we're just gonna forget about that from this point on.

(as a quick little aside, i said before that, using just numbers,

77 707 77

was the best i could do, but if you ignore how it is written down,

77777

"seventy seven thousand seven hundred and seventy seven"

is a haiku in just one number. anyways, back to emojis)

😵‍💫 🤢

this is a haiku. let me explain to you why.

most emojis are single unicode characters. but some of them are secretly just combinations of two other emojis with a symbol called a 'zero width joiner' between them, which means, although they're displayed as just one symbol, you can break them up into three. here's the wiki page for 'face with spiral eyes', which lists the three unicode symbols that make up the emoji. with that knowledge, you can pronounce this fun haiku as:

"face with crossed out eyes zero width joiner, dizzy nauseated face"

which is a haiku about a person who's sick and might just frow up.

one common type of emoji sequence is for modifying the skin tone of certain emojis. for these, we won't think about what the zero width joiner is doing (in fact, i think some, but not all, of these don't even have one? it's unclear to me, but all the more reason to ignore them.) what we'll do instead is just use the 'CLDR Short Name', which you can find listed here and here on unicode.org. These are about as official as you can get with emoji names, and will cover the emojis i'll be using for the last haikus.

so let's look back at the haiku at the top of this post, shown again:

😅👉🏽

"grinning face with sweat backhand index pointing right medium skin tone"

this takes advantage of the skin colour of the pointing emoji.

so that's another haiku that uses just two symbols, which depicts an anxious person doing finger guns (perhaps they're anxious because they spilled some yellow paint on their face. who knows. like any great artist, my works are up to interpretation.) so this leaves us all asking...

is it possible?

we've done two symbol haikus, but what about...

one?

any emoji which shows a person can be modified both by skin colour and by gender. if there is more than one person in an emoji, then each person can be given their own modifiers.

This means it's just a matter of going through the list of emojis and hoping that you can find one that works.

and, well that's just what i did:

👨🏾‍❤️‍👨🏽

couple with heart: man, man, medium-dark skin tone, medium skin tone

this is the smallest haiku possible to write. it's just a single symbol.

and it's two gay men. a wonderful queer couple. and i think that's great.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Three: "Spilled Milk" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Morning sickness has finally caught up to Reader, and unfortunately it has her spilling her guts in more than one way. — (Now) When Steve brings his roommate along with him to the coffee shop, the situation soon goes south when his friend starts to spill Steve's not-so-secret crush to a certain barista.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,561

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, vomit/morning sickness talk, mentions of food, very mild swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this chapter took so freaking long to write because work is taking it out of me lol but i hope you guys enjoy!!

Originally Written: 11/05/2023 through 11/27/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, July of 1987 ]

One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Over ten thousand minutes. That was the amount of time that had passed since that little white stick had turned blue and changed your life forever.

One might've thought you would've been used to the information by that point, that excitement or anticipation or any kind of emotion at all would've at least crossed your mind once or twice. Instead, you still felt numb, guilt and self-loathing dripping through your veins as naturally as your own blood.

To make matters worse, morning sickness had finally caught up to you. When you weren't throwing up from shame and fear, you were retching due to the human life inside you that clearly wasn't happy with its environment. You were living on a steady diet of toast and Joyce's ginger tea, and you were quite positive your brothers had started to catch on.

The older of your brothers, Jonathan, had been home for summer break from college for barely two weeks when you found out about your current condition. The two of you had been inseparable since the day you were born, having been raised more like twins than individuals who were born a year apart. And since the day you started to speak in full sentences, the two of you told each other everything. But the idea of him finding out about this? To say it terrified you more than actually having the baby was an understatement.

On the opposite hand, you had your younger brother, Will. The baby of the family—for the time being, anyway. The innocent one, the one who you trusted with anything because he didn't really have anyone to tell his secrets to. You craved so desperately to confide in someone, and he happened to be the person you always went to. But telling him this would be like taking the last of his innocence, like forcing him to cross the line between childhood and adulthood with you.

That thought was nearly too much to bear, and because of it, you found yourself doubled over the toilet, nausea and guilt and anguish rushing through you from head to toe. You retched and gagged as vomit exited you once again, tears pricking at your eyes from the pain.

Joyce truly had tried her best to help you as much as possible, bringing you anything you needed and helping you back into bed. But being a single mom also meant taking care of her kids in other ways, and this particular day, it meant leaving you at home with the two people you dreaded speaking to the most at that moment.

A soft knock rapped against the door, and you knew just from the fact that he'd actually used his manners that it was Jonathan. "Are you okay? You looked pretty sick when you ran in here."

A small smile tugged at your lips at his concern, the first time you'd felt any positive feelings since you found out your news. "It's open, Jon," you called, pushing yourself up from where you lay flat on the tiles.

He pushed the door open slightly, just enough to enter the room before cracking it behind himself. Worry knitted in his thick eyebrows as he moved to sit criss-cross on the floor across from you. "This must be one hell of a stomach bug."

A sarcastic chuckle made its way out of your lips weakly. "Pretty bad," you said, unsure if you had the strength to muster any more words together. You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging your legs like your life depended on it. Your eyes went anywhere but toward his, knowing with just one look, Jonathan could convince you to spill even your darkest secret. Which, in all fairness, this might've been it.

"Hey," he started, a gentle hand coming up to meet your knee, "I know when something's wrong with you."

"Jon, it's-"

You didn't have to look up to know he was giving you that serious and stern look, the one that always reminded you that he was nothing short of your big brother. "Don't give me the stomach bug thing again. Maybe you can fool Mom with that crap and maybe even Will, but you're not fooling me. I'm your older brother, but more than that, we're best friends. I know when something is truly wrong with you, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is."

Instead of forming words, you simply shuffled across the floor and over to him, Jonathan instinctively opening his arms up to pull you into his side. Just as you expected, even the simplest of touches had you on the brink of tears as you leaned into his embrace. His crisp and clean scent filled you with a sense of familiarity. A feeling that was so comforting, so needed, and just so Jonathan.

Pregnancy must've taken away your knowledge of how time worked because once again, being in a familiar embrace had made you lose track of time. You really weren't sure if you'd been on the floor with him for five minutes or five hours before a certain someone alerted you of his presence from the doorway.

"Uh," Will started, clearly confused by the scene in front of him. "Why are you two hugging on the bathroom floor?"

Identical snickers tumbled out of both you and Jonathan, yours being slightly muffled by tears. You pushed yourself up before motioning the younger boy over with a wave of your hand. "Come here, Will," you said, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Despite the way he was looking at the two of you like you'd both grown an extra head, Will followed your request. He sat down criss-cross on the side closest to the door, and you were sure it was because he was secretly plotting an escape from his two crazy older siblings.

You tossed an arm around both their sets of shoulders, looking between the two of them with teary eyes. "Before I tell you guys the biggest secret you've ever heard, you have to promise me two things: one, it will not leave this house; and two, you'll still love me afterward."

Jonathan rubbed at your hair playfully. "Kinda hard to promise that second one when I never loved you to begin with, stinker." The statement earned him a teasing shove from you and a false expression of shock from Will.

Looking between the two of them, you felt your heart swell with luckiness. No person had ever been blessed with two better siblings than your own, you were sure of it. The older, a living, breathing personification of comfort, and the younger, a steady thing to hold onto when life felt wobbly. You wished it could stay that way forever, the three of you in your own private and protected bubble.

Unfortunately, the moment had to come to an end and your bubble had to burst. When you remembered the statement you were about to make, it felt to you almost as though the moment had been a passing second rather than the first eighteen years of your life.

That familiar numbness began to return, flooding to your fingers and toes first, and then starting to creep up your spine. You managed a shaky breath, avoiding both their gazes as you exhaled. "I want to preface this by saying that my boyfriend and I love each other very much, so you guys don't have to worry about him." The words came out choppy, anxiety clearly coating your throat.

You could almost hear Jonathan's eyebrows furrowing as he asked, "What's he got to do with…" His voice trailed, as if already figuring out exactly what you were about to say.

Another shaky breath escaped your lips as you lifted your head. You still avoided eye contact, this time fearful they'd see the panic-induced tears welling beneath your eyes. "I…" you started, knowing that once you said the words, there'd be no going back, "I'm pregnant."

Jonathan took the news exactly how you'd expected: leaning back against the counter, running a hand through his messy brown hair, and his complexion going from its normal pale shade to stark white. Will took the information much better than your older brother: not saying anything but pulling you in for a soft hug.

While the two of them processed the statement you'd made, a new feeling washed over you, like you were finally beginning to process the news yourself. Your nerves began to settle, and the nervous tingling in your fingertips was being overtaken by… relief? Excitement? Contentment?

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

Whatever the word was, you liked it much more than the horrible, guilty, suppressing thoughts that had been weighing you down for the past week. You'd be okay, no matter what happened. Because you had the best support system, one that made your heart swell with luckiness.

The bell chimed as the door swung open, pulling your attention away from the book you'd been reading in between taking customers. Normally, your attention would be on cleaning the equipment between orders or making sure tables were cleared off, but finals were only a couple weeks away, and that had stolen your attention this particular day.

"Hi, welcome to Brew and Me." The statement came out in its normal cheery tone, one that quickly gave way to an opposing expression as your eyes met familiar, wire-framed ones.

Steve stepped up to the counter as an unfamiliar curly-haired man followed behind him, digging in every single pocket of his leather jacket to find his wallet. In juxtaposition to Steve's neutral scrubs, the man wore a bright flannel beneath his jacket, and instead of having glasses perched on his nose, he sported sunglasses atop his head that were nearly hidden by his mop of dark curls.

You quickly turned your attention back to Steve, intrigued by whatever his order might be this time. "What's your guess this time, Lennon?" you asked, the words dripping sarcasm as your arms folded tightly in front of your chest.

Not taking the bait, Steve quickly changed the conversation. "Whatcha reading?" he asked, the words melting together in a way that made your stomach melt just the same.

Still, you wouldn't take the bait either, not backing down from your usual banter. "Mouth Hygiene by Alfred Fones."

"Sexy," he chuckled, earning a small snicker from the man behind him. Steve pushed his glasses up his nose, a cocky smirk appearing on his lips before he spoke again. "To answer your question though, I was wondering if I could just get today's special?"

"Something about me says, 'iced cold brew with cinnamon cold foam'? Good to know."

Steve leaned forward on the counter, and you had to resist the urge to watch his scrubs tighten around his muscled arms. "Well, it's like your personality. A little sweet at first, but then bold and bitter."

You started to reply but got cut off by another snicker from the leather-clad man standing behind your handsome nurse. "So this is the barista you're always talking about."

Before Steve could quip out a response, you met the two men with raised brows. Curiosity bubbled inside you. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Eddie, I swear to God, if it wouldn't get me kicked out of med school, I'd murder you," Steve grumbled.

The curly-haired man just smirked, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips. "You wouldn't dare. You love Chrissy and Wayne too much to ever hurt them like that."

"I could overlook it this one time, trust me," he quipped to Eddie. To you, he simply asked, "So, how's about that daily special?"

You quickly scribbled down his order before taking his money in contemplative silence. You knew Steve had a crush on you—that much was obvious, between his flirtatious remarks and endless efforts to get your phone number, not to mention his very generous tips—but the idea of him telling his friends all about you had butterflies shooting off in your belly like fireworks.

Steve soon headed in the direction of his favorite table, leaving Eddie to step up to the counter. His eyes narrowed in on the menu hanging above you, his tongue clicking as he contemplated his decision. Eventually, he landed on a white chocolate mocha, and your stomach growled at the thought.

"By the way," he said, sliding his money toward you, "he really does talk about you all the time, even if he's too shy to admit it."

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away, conveniently focusing on the cash register than on him. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," he smiled. "Steve could go on and on for hours about your beautiful hair or gorgeous smile or whatever part of you he's thinking about that day. Just the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about your eyes. Not to mention, he's constantly raving about how no one could ever make drinks the way you do, hence why I'm here today."

Forget fireworks. With every word that passed through Eddie's lips, explosions of butterflies danced and spun around in your belly, tingles shooting up your spine.

After a few seconds, you finally gained enough composure to speak again. "Well, the feeling is definitely mutual," you admitted, your cheeks hot enough to steam milk.

"Good," Eddie said, the word quiet and simple and straight to the point. "He's a good guy. He's… a terrible roommate," a small laugh followed the remark, "but he really is a good guy."

The tingles on your spine somehow increased tenfold as you listened to Eddie's statements. You knew Steve was good, but hearing the people that knew him outside the coffee shop talk so highly of him made you swoon.

You didn't say anything in response, you were too busy trying to hide the blush burning across your entire face. You quickly got to work on their drinks, looking for any reason to avoid eye contact with the men. While it probably wasn't possible, you'd convinced yourself that one micro expression gone wrong could reveal every thought racing through your mind, and decided it was best to avoid the two until you collected yourself and your thoughts.

Still, your heart couldn't help but flutter at Eddie's words about the lovestruck nurse. Were it not for Mandy—and your trust issues—you might hop over the counter and give Steve your home phone number on the spot. After all, with every new day that passed and every new attempt at guessing your coffee order, you only found yourself falling for him that much more.

But you had a little girl at home, in need of protection. After all the sorry examples of men she'd had thus far in her mere three years on earth, it would take Steve a lot more than a couple of big tips and flirty banter for you to trust him.

So, you made quick work of changing the channel in your brain, no longer focusing on the one playing only lovesick lullabies and switching instead to one with barista ballads and zeroing your thoughts in on your work. If Steve really and truly wanted a shot with you, he'd have to work hard, no matter how sweet the things his friend had spilled about him were.

This is my formal apology stating that I am so sorry this was posted so late in the day! I had planned on queuing it for earlier in the day but didn't get home from work last night until super late. Anyway, I apologize and hope that next week's chapter will be posted on time!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[spideyyboiirecs]

Bucky Barnes Reblogs

A masterlist of my fav Bucky Barnes Fics 

SERIES

A Maidens Tale 18+ @world-of-aus

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Dolores, Mob!Bucky x Maid!Reader 

The Truth Will Set You Free @angstysebfan

pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader

Bad Decisions 18+ @syntheticavenger

pairing: Mob Boss Bucky Barnes x Right Hand Female Reader

Monster In Law 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Chubby Bee 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size!Reader 

The Annoying Guy @holylulusworld

pairing: OFC x fem!Reader, Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Every Other Day 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Mr Grumpy and His Ex-mate @holylulusworld

pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader 

Rebound 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader 

Unwilling Bride @holylulusworld​

pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barney’s x fem!Reader 

Howlin’ For You @invisibleanonymousmonsters

pairing: Biker!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Her soft animal 18+ @kinanabinks

paring: Dark Bucky x Reader

The Penthouse 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Multiple Characters x Reader

Two Thousand, Five Hundred and sixty nine 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: frat!bucky x best friend!reader

Relax 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Nerd!Frat!Bucky x Reader

Best Friend 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best Friend!Reader

ONESHOTS

As In The Mother, So Is Her Daughter @suitk0via

pairing: Dad!Bucky x Reader

His Little Play Thing 18+ @bucky-barnes-diaries

pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Stepdaughter!Reader

It All Belongs To You 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader 

Rescuing Alpine @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Bucky x Reader. Alpine 

Top Of His List @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Mafia Bucky x Reader 

Don’t Make Me Wait 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: 

Thin Ice 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: 

Say The Word and It’s Yours 18+ @angrythingstarlight​

pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader 

Cruel 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

How You Love Me 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

Something Blue 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

Separation Anxiety 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Semi-dark!fratbucky x best friend!reader

Clingy As Fuck 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader 

Constant 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

His Girls 18+ @kinanabinks 

paring: Nat x Reader x Bucky 

The Sound Of Love 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Bucky x Partly Deaf!Avenger!Reader

Tug Of War 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best Friend!Reader, Ex!Pietro x Reader 

The Only One @kinanabinks 

pairing: Ex!Bucky x Reader 

Obedient 18+ @holylulusworld

Pairing: Alpha!Mobster!Bucky x Omega!Reader 

Two Souls @holylulusworld

pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader;Alpha!Winter Soldier x Omega!Reader

Stumble @holylulusworld​

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

I Have A Feeling This Was A Trap 18+ @scarletsoldat​

pairing: Beefy!dom!Bucky x Shy!sub!Reader x Roommate!dom!Wanda 

Mr Grumpy Man 18+ @idy-ll-ique​

pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky x F!Reader

STUCKY: 

BackStage Pass 18+ @luxeavenger​

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Female!Reader 

Their Surrogate 18+ @gotnofucks

pairings: Dark!Steve x Reader, Dark!Bucky x Reader

Theirs To Keep 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader x Mobster!Steve

Your Doll 18+ @kaiparker-avengerssmut

pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x f!stark!reader

Method Acting 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: frat!steve x reader x frat!bucky

[braveclementine]

Epilogue

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Optional Read: Some parts of this are going to be sad and might spoil the happy ending I had before. This doesn't really offer any plot and you won't miss anything if you simply end reading at the last chapter.

Also, in case you're concerned about the number of kids: It's over a course of over one thousand and more years so don't worry, the kids are pretty well spread out. 

You've been warned

Trigger warnings: Death

Your kids names by the time you died:

~ Lucy Sarah Marvel- Bucky

~Vincent Jack Marvel- Fury

~Marcel Yomaya Marvel- T'Challa

~James Rupert Marvel- Rhodey

~Temperance Hope Marvel- Tony

~Lloyd Heimdell Marvel- Thor

~Vera Shuri Marvel- T'Challa

~Rán Elizabeth Lokidottir- Loki

~Kiara Donna- Stephen

~Zia Maria Marvel- Fury

~Elijah Kai Marvel- Tony

~Arlo James Marvel- Steve

~Jörd Odinson- Thor

~Janelle Ruth Marvel- Bucky

~Nya Isabel Marvel- Clint

~Laura Rue Marvel- Clint

~Frederick Remus Marvel- Sam

~George Sirius Marvel- Sam

~Angela Natasha Marvel- Clint

~Cole Edward Marvel- Stephen

~Freyja Lokidottir- Loki

~Sebastian Paul Marvel- Bucky

~Claude John Marvel- Steve

~Kisa Wanda Marvel- Sam

~Cebisa Gugu Marvel- T'Challa

~Clementine Y/N Marvel- Tony

~Wendell Nick Marvel- Fury

~Damon Skye Marvel- Bucky

~Edward Jarvis Marvel- Tony

Order of which you died:

1. Rhodey: A year and a half after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: You didn't have to help me clean up, but thank you hot mama.

2. Clint: Twenty-seven years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: Kind've ironic it's Cancer that's killing me, isn't it? Anyways, don't be sad birdie. I'll see you on the other side.

3. T'Challa: one hundred and forty-seven years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: I'm just going to go and show Cebisa the boundary lines. She's the newest little royal so she's got to know her own country. I'll see you when we get back, my Nkosazana.

4. Sam: Two hundred and sixty-three years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: Don't worry, the mission will be a breeze. I'll be back in time for Kisa's birthday, you know I wouldn't miss that for the world babe. Just keep a hold of that good luck charm I gave you for Christmas. Oh, and don't forget to take care of my boys, alright?

5. Thor: One thousand, one hundred, and thirty-seven years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: Don't cry my princesse. I'll be waiting in Vahalla for you.

6. Fury: One thousand, one hundred, and fifty-eight years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: It was just my time babydoll. I'm not a stupid man. But with all this magic in the world, it can't be possible that we won't see each other again in the afterlife. Besides, now I get to see my sons again.

7. Loki: One thousand, nine hundred, and eight-four years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: Honestly my Queen? I think this is the first time I've beaten my brother in a competition. I can't wait to gloat in his face. Save those tears pet. You don't need to cry over me. I want the last thing I see of you to be your smile.

8. You: Two thousand, fifty-four years after bonding ceremony. Last words to Steve and Bucky: I love you both so much, I hope you both know that. I'll tell Sam you guys said hi, okay? Last words to Tony: You know, finding out the Avengers were my soulmates was the scariest thing in the world. But I wouldn't have changed a damn thing. I love you Tony. Last words to Stephen: Please don't cry Stephen. We got so much more time together than anyone else ever will. I only want you to remember the good times, okay?

9. Bucky: Two thousand, two hundred, twenty-four years after bonding ceremony Last words to Steve: Here's the end of the line pal. Don't blame yourself, I'll haunt you from the other side. I love you baby.

10. Steve: Two thousand, two hundred, tweyty-five years after bonding ceremony Last words to Stephen and Tony: I can't do it anymore. I can't live without them. Guess you're the last two left. I'm sorry

11. Tony: Two thousand, three hundred, and five years after bonding ceremony Last words to Stephen: I know you're sad, but don't be. I'm actually kind've excited to see all of them again. We're all going to be a huge, happy family once more. Just don't join me to soon. Do all the things you wanted to do first, okay? Promise me that.

12. Stephen: Two thousand, three hundred, and ten years after bonding ceremony There was no one to say his last words to: I'm coming home

When you all meet again

You woke up in a dazzling field of purple flowers. You sat up slowly, breathing in the fresh air. The field was completely empty and you got to your feet. Looking around carefully, you confirmed that you were alone.

Your feet seemed to move of their own accord, as though a magnetic pull was leading you across this field.

Your feet made almost no noise as you walked across this path, you and you noticed that you weren't wearing any shoes. Your feet felt the grass prickling and tickling underneath your feet.

At the edge of the field, the forest opened up to show a single house down in a valley.

It was huge, stretching from side to side, extending far back. It had a whole farm with animals and fruits trees and vegetable plants. The sun shone down brightly on the entirety. A stream of water cut through the back end of the forest, a smaller, though good sized cottage sat there.

Kids played all out on the front lawn, before looking up at you. They were all around the age of ten to fourteen.

"Moms home!" Vincent shouted. "Look, moms home!"

The kids ran up the slope towards you, while you ran down the slope towards them. You had missed them so badly. They had died so early as they hadn't been passed along the immortality gene- unless they were Thor and Loki's children.

"I knew I felt something." A long time hearing, but hugely familiar voice said.

Your eyes pricked with tears, spinning to see Rhodey there.

"James!" You said, tears streaming down your face, throwing yourself into his arms. He kissed the top of your head.

"Hey there sweet mama." He grinned.

"Y/N!" Thor laughed, sweeping through to pull you into a huge hug. Loki, T'Challa, Fury, Clint, and Sam followed behind quickly.

"Steve and Bucky love you." You murmured as Sam gave you the last hug.

"I miss them." Sam mumbled.

"They miss you too." you whispered, cupping his face, before kissing him.

"Hey, we have one last person." Clint said, pointing. "Well I mean, you know, one more group."

You grinned, running over and pulling Elizabeth into a hug. "Oh my God I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too." Elizabeth said with a watery smile. "Thank you so much for everything. For taking care of Minerva and protecting her. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." You murmured. "Where is Minerva anyways?"

"She's with Hogun." Elizabeth said with a smile.

"Good. I'm glad that he's here with you." You said softly.

Elizabeth's smiled was sad now. "I did get scared, when he killed himself. And I was angry at first, wanting him to stay for her, but I was glad for the company. Rhodey didn't show up until a little later."

"Is this. . . Heaven?" You asked.

Elizabeth paused and looked around. "Hmm, I don't really know. From what we've explored, it just seems like another world except. . . it's. . . brighter. It's happier. Although you can't have kids in this world. If you could, Hogun and I would have a thousand."

You giggled. "I'm glad that we're all here."

"As one family." Elizabeth finished.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

***

You woke up, feeling a tingly feeling in your stomach.

You quickly made your way out of the house, watching as Bucky walked over to the edge of the cliff. You sprinted up it, leaping into his arms. He hugged you tightly before laying kisses all over your face.

"I missed you doll."

"I missed you too Teddy bear." You mumbled.

You noticed that his metal arm was gone, a real flesh arm in place of it. You didn't feel disappointment this time. Here, you were all in your pure forms.

"Bucky!" Sam's voice was ecstatic behind you. The two of them collided in a fierce hug, teeth and tongue clashing as they tried to get as close as possible to each other. You were almost certain that they would rip each others' clothes off each other right then and there.

Now, you were only waiting on three more.

***

You were already with Sam and Bucky when the tingly feeling happened again, a year or so later. The three of you had been walking along the forest line and you raced back to the house.

"It's Steve, I can just feel it." Bucky panted. "I can feel him."

When you reached the top of the hill, you found that Bucky was correct, but both you and Sam did a double take.

While Bucky barreled in Steve's arms, you and Sam looked at his new body. He was about the same height as Bucky, instead of a few inches taller. He wasn't as muscular in the shoulders, more lean and thin. He didn't look sickly or scrawny, but he wasn't the wall of muscles that you had known.

"I know." Steve said, sounding almost apologetic as Bucky finally let him up off the grass. "It's different, isn't it? I've almost forgotten what Bucky looks like with a metal arm."

You sobbed, leaping into his arms. "Stevie you're home!"

"Yeah cookie, I'm home."

"Stevie." Sam mumbled, hugging him tightly, crying as well.

"Aww baby." Steve cooed, wrapping the both of us tightly in his arms. "Don't cry, everything's okay."

***

When Tony came, he came like everything was normal. His hands were in his pockets and he simply strolled along, not even pausing at the crest of the hill before sauntering down the hill like he owned the place. The only difference was there was no glowing arc reactor in his chest.

"Well don't you look a day over two thousand." He grinned, winking at you.

You giggled. "What a flirt."

"Guess I've still got it." He said, pulling you into a hug. "Fuck I missed you."

"I missed you too." you mumbled into his chest. "How's Stephen?"

"He's okay. He's grieving. I told him not to follow to soon after me. I didn't want him to kill himself like Steve did." Tony whispered. "But I'm afraid he will."

"Well, being in love for two thousand plus years is probably equivalent to when couples die a few months apart when they've been married for fifty plus years." You amended, "You know, the normal couples."

Tony chuckled. "Yes, but I do feel bad for the pain he's going through. I hope this gets easier."

"Once Stephen joins us, we're complete." You whispered. "There's no death in this world. You know I actually got to meet George Washington?"

"That's fascinating. I should call up Albert Einstein and Newton." Tony said, growing excited.

You giggled, "Call them up hmm?"

"Can we invent in this world? Gosh this is fascinating. Hmm, I wonder if the other world was a world for the dead as well, we just don't remember our previous lives. Wow, I wonder. . ." He immediately went off on a tangent that you quickly got lost in.

But that made everything feel like normal.

***

You and Tony were the ones to greet Stephen as he came striding out of the field. His hands were uncovered, and you noticed all of his scars were gone. He too was changed.

Part of you hated the changes. You hated that Bucky no longer had a metal arm. You hated that Steve wasn't the same. You hated the missing glow from Tony's chest. You hated Stephen's missing scars.

But this was the place for change. This was the new yous and the old yous put together. This was your new home.

"Stephen." A smile spread across your face in seconds, wrapping your arms around him. "Welcome home."

"Welcome home." Tony said, kissing Stephen passionately on his lips. "Did you do what I asked you to?"

"I did." Stephen nodded, wrapping one arm around you, holding Tony's hand.

"Are you going to tell me about it?"

"Every minute." Stephen promised and the three of you walked up to the house. "First I went parasailing. . ."

No, it wasn't actually perfect.

But that was what made it home.

~The End~ For Real This Time

[idgivemyeyesfor-mattmurdock]

Hey in your last update you can Upload part Two ?

hope ur ok: pt2

GIF by kamillahn

TW: are you allergic to fluff? if so piss off

Pairing: Fem reader teacher x Matt Murdock

(tag requested) @chezagnes

“you weren’t joking about times tables, were you?” asked Matt as he heard you take out some papers from your briefcase. 

“Do I sound like a joking person?” 

Matt was used to women falling down at his feet, and begging him to be with them. Though, that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do the same in due time, but thats just how you were. 

Hard to get. 

“No, but, my times tables?” asked Matt as he began to stand up from his bed, “out of all the things, you’d have me recite numbers?” 

He had to be sixteen, because there was no way someone could be so whiney. 

as you sat down on the chair beside his bed, you began to place the essays your students had written; on the top of your lap, you said, “you’re a lawyer, right?” 

“Thats the rumor on the street.” 

You signed as your hands went over the dots, “so, you know the constitution, history, aws that were passed years ago and cases that hardly matter to us now backwards and forwards, right?” 

“yes.” replied Matt a he swung his legs over the bed and placed his feet not he the floorboards, then facing your voice you said, “So, the one thing you probably could give two fucks about is math and science. Right?” 

“yes…” 

“And you’re a lawyer. and by the time I have spent talking to you, and by the way I’ve seen you maneuver yourself around court— you seem like the type of guy to think he knows everything.” 

“I do.” 

“whats seven times five hundred and twenty tree?” 

he paused. Thinking for a moment he replied cockily, “Two thousand, three hundred and sixty one.” 

“wrong.” you said with a laugh, “It’s three hundred, six hundred and sixty one.” 

In embarrassment in pointed his head away from your direction, though you continued laughing by replying “So, Matthew, you don’t know everything.” 

“you want to humble me.” 

“No,” you replied as your hands continued towards the page, “That’s what church is for… I just think you need to broaden your perspective on people.” 

“by doing my times tables and chemistry?” 

“Why not?” you asked as you’re hands stopped feeling the dots that were on the page, “you need to learn how to stretch you’re brain from just the circle that you live in.” 

“So you’re a therapist.” said Matt in a laugh as he relaxed he just got himself into some trouble with you. 

“No, I’m just a person who thinks you have more potential than what you see in yourself. God knows why He gave you a second chance, but he did. By seeing you and the way you treated you’re partners in the last case you three did— made me think that If I was ever in a situation that I had to deal with that— that I’d want that person to realize that they aren’t a little perfect creampuff that gets to walk on the face of the earth. And if it takes for me to teach you how to balance and equation or for me to sit down with you and practice seven times forty nine— then it will.” 

Matt looked away from the sunlight and set his peripherals back to you. 

His eyes, defocused yet so concentrated on your words. 

Concentrated on you. 

“So, when do we start, teach?”

-

Check out my Matt X Fem Frank Castles sister POC OC!!

[angeart]

ask game 12 &13!

yayy more questions! okay i'll start with 13 because it's simpler:

13.Any segment of your work that made you cry while writing it? (because it moved you deeply)

so. i cry easily. but i don't tend to cry while writing, i think? i don't have the greatest memory, so i can't be sure. i remember one time i cried while writing hmtb, but it wasn't because i was moved deeply jcnbjk (it was actually a mellow scene and i just. unexpectedly triggered an unpleasant memory, oops.)

in a way, i think it's easier to get emotional while working on RPs, actually. i might've cried at those in the past, mmh.

now, if you asked me when did i get anxious while writing. that's a whole another thing. i do deal with a lot of heavy emotions in writing, and, yeah. anyway, the answer is yesterday. (hmtb grian is doing perfectly well wdym-) (i had to stop writing after 8 sentences and take a break everything's fine-)

12.Funniest comment you've ever gotten in a piece of work?

this is a fun one! i don't think i have a favourite, i'm not the best with putting things on a scale and deciding that's the most this or that. add my bad memory into the mix, and about a year of writing a multichapter fic, and- well. but! i dug through and made a small collection of comments that amuse me! (there were many more, but i'm trying not to swarm you completely.)

i cannot tell you how much i appreciate and value the comments i get. i read every single one, and they matter a lot! they help me immensely and i am insanely grateful for them. <33

anyway, the collection of comments that make me giggle is under the line!

♥ please, consider this a love letter to all the commenters. ♥

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 3 of Elegy: ANGE UOU ARE THE SINGULAR SOURCE OF MY ANGST AND DEPRESSION (…) POOR GRIAN HE BETTER BE ALRIGHT OTHERWISE I WILL CHUCK A TENNIS BALL AT MY TOE

-

ghostpi on Chapter 7 of hmtb: TIS BUT A FLESH WOUND.

-

Eucalypta on Chapter 18 of hmtb: I forgot this had a ship tag so I was reading all previous chapters like: "what deep soulmates they are! Wait … Thats a bit gay. Well sometimes platonic love goes very dee- No thats definitely gay… What were the tags again?"

-

Tiand on Chapter 21 of hmtb: So- uh- Where can I send my therapy bill?

-

wimrow on Chapter 26 of hmtb: WOOOOO I DONT FEWL LIKE SOBBING WITJ THIS CHAPTER!!!!!! (this will absolutely change later on won’t it)

-

genderfluid_bitch on Chapter 29: *does a little jig* THE BABIES ARE HURTING AGAIN

-

Amabsis on Chapter 30 of hmtb: “Grian, are you okay?” NOBODY IS OKAY IMPULSESV!!!

-

Chat on Chapter 31 of hmtb: THATS A BRILLIANT WAY TO END A CHAPTER BUT OH MY FUCKERY ARE YOU CRUEL FOR IT.

-

peskytimes on Chapter 39 of hmtb: everytime i read this fic my mental state gets worse <33 /pos

-

Alcea_42 on Chapter 42 of hmtb: so sometimes 42 doesn't solve everything-

-

Holly_Loves_Reading on Chapter 46 of hmtb: Oh my god they’re so cute! Not even a little bit healthy, but so cute!

-

Pidgey05 on Chapter 47 of hmtb: Omg 200k words of pain and now finnally some fluff T^T it was so beautiful thank you author, for this gift 🤣

-

SongbirdQuela on Chapter 48 of hmtb: Everything’s going so well! Oh jee wiz I hope nothing goes incredibly wrong, boy would that be a rollercoaster, oh golly I can’t wait to see absolutely none of the characters doing anything self destructive!

-

Heartpaw on Chapter 48 of hmtb: “Did you two have a romp?” Says you. Your the one not wearing you own pants. Are you sure YOU didn’t have a romp

--

also have a kiss collection of you guys going insane <33

The_Pesky_Crow on Chapter 28 of hmtb: 12 Chapters from now, in a land far far away, the Grain kisses the Scar

-

Linkito on Chapter 41 of hmtb: I absolutely cannot believe that I binged this FORTY ONE chapter fic of A HUNDRED AND SIXTY THOUSAND WORDS and these idiots haven't kissed. Unbelievable. You're taking slow burn to a whole new level bless you and also I hate you LMAO

-

Bones_exe on Chapter 44 of hmtb: I'm going to be a crinkly old man by the time these two smooch huh?

-

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 44 of hmtb: JUST KISS ALREADY. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. PLEASE JUST KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-

Xanadu:Wynter on Chapter 45 of hmtb: PLEASE JUST ONE KISS

-

Bioluminescence on Chapter 45 of hmtb: I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO KISS I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH AND THEN THEY DIDN'T this is honestly so predictable of you though smh

--

and some bonus screenshot stuff <3 (first two from elegy, the rest is hmtb)

(in the one below you can see a beautiful duality of comments /pos)

i hope that was fun. i had fun putting this together <3

love you guys!!

----- questions from >>this ask game<<

[cheezits4lyfe]

Crescendo - Strings of Fate Ch. 3

AO3 || Table of Contents

WC: 1.9k

CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Spongebob French Narrator voice) "two-thousand two hundred and sixty words lay-taihr", Gale is finally brought into the fold! Leandra tries to flee the Quaffing Quaggoth.

TW: religious trauma || disordered eating/food guilt || body image issues

------------------------------

Chapter 3 - Crescendo

Most people know of “fight or flight”. 

What many don’t realise until it’s too late is that there is a third class within this concept. 

Fight, flight, or freeze. 

Much to her chagrin, Leandra is one of the unfortunate “many” who fall into the “freeze” camp when faced with a dangerous situation.

A fact she didn’t know about herself until just now. Hurrah for learning.

With the closed quarters and poor lighting, Leandra can’t make out any details of the person holding onto her biceps. They weren’t letting go, but they weren’t dragging her away, either. 

Though her body is unwilling to move, her mind and her mouth finally spring into action.

“Morgana sent you, didn’t she? Whatever she told you, it isn’t true.” Leandra tries to keep her voice measured and steady, but her pulse is racing as sweat trickles down the back of her neck. 

The grip on her biceps lessens, but the figure remains. “I’m afraid I don’t know of this ‘Morgana’... or, of any Morgana for that matter. Though, perhaps I should be grateful I’ve never made their acquaintance if your tone of voice is any indication of the kind of person they are.”

Leandra didn’t recognize this voice, nor the silhouette of whoever this was. It was as if a coy smirk could speak. Lower timbre, warm tone, friendly lilt. Could a voice sound handsome?

Eyes adjusting to the low light, she gets a better look at the figure in front of her. Though Leandra is tall for a woman at 5’ 10”, this mystery man looked to be about 6’ 3”. Broad shoulders, chiselled jaw blanketed by well-trimmed stubble, longer curly hair tied half-back, and tailored robes with tasteful embroidery. 

Whoever they are, there’s no way anyone this well-off would be associated with Morgana or her lackeys “Martyrs in Faith”. Leandra relaxes a bit, but is still on edge. 

“I beg pardon, sær; I mistook you for another in this godsawful lighting. If you’re wanting to hire me for an event or other some-such booking, the owner has my information.” Leandra starts to walk away, peeking past the meagre curtains which separate the “backstage” from the rest of the tavern. He follows behind her, eyebrows cocked in curiosity at Leandra’s tense mannerisms.

“Miss, I do apologise if I startled you. I hadn’t realised it was such closed quarters back here; nor that you were so close to leaving—”

Only half-listening, Leandra’s eyes widen and a shiver runs down her spine as she peeks around the corner into the tavern. She notices a shorter, apple-shaped woman with mousy brown hair cut in a uniform, short length around her narrow face and beady eyes. She wears nondescript grey robes, with a humble pouch tied around her waist. The woman’s thin lips are pursed into an even thinner line as she scrutinises Baklin behind the bar.

“I-I’m sorry, sær, but I’m afraid I really must take my leave—something’s come up.” The man follows her eye line, noticing the very out-of-place woman speaking with the owner… as well as how Leandra’s posture tenses up even more at the sight of the woman. He gently but firmly places a hand on Leandra’s shoulder as she tries to slip past the curtains.

“Wait—if you need to leave undetected, follow me.” Leandra isn’t one to trust strangers off the bat. But, between the woman at the bar and this guy, she feels her odds are better with him.

Leandra gives a quick nod, which he reciprocates. He turns on his heels, quickly but quietly sliding along the “backstage” wall until he reaches a stack of mead barrels. Leandra follows closely behind, looking over her shoulder occasionally to make sure no one is behind them.

The man runs his hand down one of the staves of the middle barrel, revealing a hidden button. Upon pressing it, a soft unlatching sound can be heard; revealing the back alley. The man steps out, holding the secret door open for Leandra before closing it swiftly but carefully behind them.

Once out in the alleyway, relief washes over her. But, that relief is short-lived as she tries to think of where she can go. Leandra’s eyes dart back and forth, half checking to make sure she isn’t followed and half searching for the best way forward. “If they found me at the Quaggoth, they almost certainly know I’m staying at the Bard Inn…way to choose the most obvious inn possible, Leandra. You dumbass,” she thinks to herself in frustration.

The man who helped her slip out of the Quaggoth waves a hand in front of her, snapping Leandra back to reality. 

“Lost in thought?” He uses a more lighthearted tone than Leandra finds appropriate.

“Something like that.”

The sun has set, but soft mage lights on the street give her a better view of the mystery man. He’s even more handsome than his voice led her to believe. He has streaks of grey peppered throughout his dark brown hair, a striking aquiline nose, and charming lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. She gives him a tight, nervous smile as she holds her travel case and knapsack close to her person.

“You did me a real solid helping me slip out of there. I hope I can buy you a pint sometime to properly thank you for your kindness.” Leandra gives a polite nod as she starts down the alley.

“Do you have somewhere to wait out… whoever it is that you’re avoiding?”

Leandra pauses, then turns back to face him.

“No. Unfortunately, I don’t.” 

The man walks up to Leandra, looking over their shoulders occasionally to make sure no one is walking toward them.

“If you’re willing to extend your trust just a mite further, I know somewhere close that they’d never be able to get to. I know I’m just some middle-aged stranger, but I assure you I mean nothing untoward. You just seem… in need of some help, in need of a friend.”

Leandra scans his eyes and body language thoroughly. Reading people is a skill she picked up early, and one of the most vital in her arsenal when it comes to surviving on the road as a lone, young bard. She just needs to get away from here, then figure out her next steps. 

“I’ll follow your lead.” The man nods, then walks ahead of Leandra down the alley. He takes her hand in his to ensure she follows closely. The feeling of his soft skin and strong, sculpted hand around her pale, slender digits makes her heart skip a beat. Leandra brushes the feeling off as her nervousness from the situation, and focuses on following him out of the alley.

He looks both ways, then snakes them through various side-alleys, nooks, and crannies until they are near the harbour. To the east, a colossal statue of some sort of knight stands watch over the southern part of the city. Leandra’s ears perk up at the sound of a nearby group: a gaggle of tipsy students sing-shouting a drinking song with no sense of key or tempo. They walk with various slanted postures that make one wonder how any of them are remaining upright.

“Well, here we are.” The man’s voice snaps Leandra out of her distracted people watching to realise they’re now in some sort of garden. There is a groundskeeper’s quarters, some strange flora in a greenhouse, and a striking tower—all contained within stately stone walls.

“Gods above. I don’t know where we are, but it’s far too nice for the likes of me.” The grandeur of this place cracks Leandra’s usual defence mechanisms of false confidence and humour; allowing a sliver of the anxious, distrusting young woman she’s had to become show through. The kind stranger chuckles lightly to himself as he gazes at Leandra. 

“You are more than welcome here. Please, make yourself comfortable.” The kind stranger smiles warmly as he gestures toward a nearby seating area with a flourish of his right hand. Leandra smiles politely, but slowly makes her way over to stand near the seating area as she takes in her new surroundings. Noticing her uncomfortable body language, the man goes to the settee across from her to respect her personal space. He clears his throat to break the silence.

“Judging by how long your set went, I doubt you’ve had any time for dinner.” The man gives her a sincere smile, hoping to help her feel more at ease.

Leandra lets out a breathy chuckle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been following me. Or, you’re uncannily observant… which I’d argue is worse.”

The man gives a ‘guilty’ shrug and wince in jest. “Tonight was the first time I was fortunate enough to see a performance of yours, so I’m afraid it’s the latter.” 

Leandra perches herself on the armrest of the settee to her left, placing her violin case and knapsack on the ground. “So, uncannily observant it is.”

The man chuckles as he gazes up into Leandra’s big, amber eyes. “My attention to detail has been described many ways. Uncanny, unrelenting, unfortunate, and many other adjectives which I won’t dare repeat in front of polite company.”

Leandra’s heart flutters as he smiles coyly at her. She averts her gaze down to her boots as she wraps her arms around her midsection, shivering slightly from a slight breeze coming off the coast. Before she can get in another quip, her stomach makes an ungodly murmur from her neglected hunger. Leandra blushes and clears her throat as a futile effort to cover the sound.

The man smiles politely at Leandra as he rises from his seat. “It’s settled then. I hope pork tenderloin and fingerling potatoes will do?”

“No need to go to such trouble, sær. You’ve already done so much.” Leandra’s protest is met with polite “tuts” from the man as he moves to stand between her and the entrance to his tower.

“Please, I insist. From my recent culinary endeavours, I have more leftovers than I know what to do with. Besides, my mother would disown me if I were to let a guest go hungry,” he says with a cheeky smile and glint in his eye. The man thinks for a moment, then moves to stand closer to Leandra while still remaining a respectful distance away.

“And if it’s allergies or dietary restrictions you’re concerned about, I can most certainly take those into account! I assure you, it’s no trouble at all,” he says with a kind smile. 

He is so eager to please, to help. Leandra doesn’t know how to respond. She’s never met someone so genuinely altruistic as this gentleman…whose name she still does not know.

Leandra turns to face him more directly, still perched on the settee. “No allergies or special diets here. But, I can’t accept a meal from you in good conscience—I don’t even know your name.”

The man’s kind expression soon dissolves into one of quiet embarrassment. “Gods above, please forgive me. All this talk of trying to be a ‘good host’ and I forget my most basic manners. My name is Gale,” he says with an apologetic smile as he extends his hand to Leandra.

“Leandra,” she says as she shakes his hand. Her heart flutters again from the brief contact. The soft skin punctuated by a few subtle calluses, the defined veins and musculature, the feeling of her hand being delicately enveloped by his. It makes her core and cheeks flush in a way she’s never felt before. She withdraws her hand from Gale’s, hoping the rosiness of her face is hidden by the low light of the garden.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Leandra. I’ll be but a moment—please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” Gale pats the back of the settee Leandra’s perched upon before walking toward the tower. She watches as he becomes a distant silhouette; a faint sense of calm washing over her for the first time since she fled home as she breathes in the clear night air.

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Table of Contents

s/o to these other wonderful Gale/Tav works on AO3 which inspired me to try writing my own fanfic for the first time! Definitely check them out if you haven’t already :)

first light by absoluteTomfoolery

Carrying Your Love With Me (and so much more) by MercyInReach

what should I do but tend by PouroverPaloma

Dekarioses of Waterdeep by Scotsomighty

also, s/o to these super helpful resources I've been using to write this!

Forgotten Realms Wiki

Obsidian Portal - City of Splendors, Dungeon of Madness

Waterdeep Interactive Map

Detailed Waterdeep Map by u/flamableconcrete (Reddit)

Detailed Waterdeep Ward Maps & Sublocations by u/RavenxAlmasy (Reddit)

Weather in the Realms (from Dandello's Faerûnian Almanac

[absenceisaformofwinter]

"TOUCH ME... I touch her ass and realize that, despite the mountain of years I carry on my shoulders, the gesture doesn't go unnoticed downstairs. She smiles. As tasteless as it may be, especially in a public place, this act of mine, like a horny teenager, seems to please her. We've spent a lifetime together. The truth is, I hope to be able to touch her ass even in the next one. Our children have become parents. Their children, our grandchildren, are instead dealing with their first loves. Reciprocated and unreciprocated. Everything as scripted. I don't hear as I used to. Sixty years ago, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was my morning alarm. Today, when I want to chat with friends, I have to put on a stupid device in my ear. A kind of beehive full of hysterical bees implanted in my brain. With her, it's different. We talk with our eyes. A glance is enough, and everything is clear. Few words. Only when necessary. Practically never. After fifty years of marriage, at least a million bags of garbage thrown into various bins, and as many reproaches for not having done, or for having done but not in the right way, we're still here: in the pub of a provincial town, waiting for any Saturday afternoon to turn into darkness. I know it's funny. Two more than eighty-year-olds sitting at the bar drinking two pints of Guinness. In the face of gastritis and enlarged prostate. It seems like a scene from a Fellini movie. They talk about a few months. Three, maybe even six. Probably four. I know I shouldn't take it too seriously. After all, I've lived quite a bit. There are thousands of children dying every day. Even now, at this precise moment. If by adding their young ages until they reach my years, I were certain that my exit could save their lives, well... I would go more peacefully. I know it's not like that. It never will be. There's no contract that says life is a matter of algebra. There's no contract, truth be told. She doesn't know yet. I don't have the courage to tell her. How do you react to the news that the guy you've been sleeping with for more than half a century will be just an empty pillow in a few months? I don't know. I'm scared. Not just for me. Also for her. The truth is, we're not made to die. I know it sounds childish as reasoning, but I can assure you that's how things are. Every day you live life at a hundred miles an hour with the crazy desire to take your foot off the accelerator. Then, without any warning, the red light comes on, and you stop to refuel. You get back in the car, turn the key, and - plot twist - nothing happens. The engine doesn't roar anymore. It's dead. But how is it possible? You wonder. I was traveling at the speed of light just a moment ago. I had plans, aces up my sleeve to play at the right moment, and now I find myself with my pants down around my knees, waiting for a stranger to enter my rooms and clean house. Believe me: even at eighty, you make plans. And one of the most recurring ones, ironically, is not to die. Funny, isn't it? - Shall we go for another round? I look at her. She's beautiful. With the polka dot dress and matching glasses. - Why not! I exclaim - After all... I leave the sentence unfinished. She furrows her eyebrows. Maybe she understood. Maybe not. Maybe... who knows. I signal the bartender to bring two more. He nods. You still have a beautiful ass - I say, adjusting my hat. She smiles. A caress on the cheek. I close my eyes and prepare for the next round. Of Beer. Of Life.

TOUCH ME…

Le tocco il cuIo(ne) e mi rendo conto che, nonostante la montagna di anni che mi porto sulle spalle, la cosa non passa inosservata ai piani bassi. Lei sorride. Per quanto di cattivo gusto, soprattutto all'interno di un locale pubblico, questo mio gesto da teenager in calore sembra farle piacere. Abbiamo passato una vita insieme. La verità è che mi auguro di poterle toccare il cuIo anche nel corso della prossima. I nostri figli sono diventati genitori. I loro figli, i nostri nipoti, sono invece alla prese con i primi amori. Corrisposti e non. Tutto come da copione. Non sento più come una volta. Sessant'anni fa il rumore prodotto dalle onde del mare contro gli scogli era la mia sveglia mattutina. Oggi, quando voglio fare una chiacchierata con gli amici, devo mettermi uno stupido aggeggio nell'orecchio. Una specie di alveare pieno di api isteriche impiantato nel cervello. Con lei è diverso. Noi ci parliamo con gli occhi. Basta uno sguardo ed è già tutto chiaro. Poche parole. Solo quando è necessario. Praticamente mai. Dopo cinquant'anni di matrimonio, almeno un milione di sacchi di immondizia gettati nei vari cassonetti, e altrettanti rimproveri per non aver fatto, o per aver fatto ma non nel modo corretto, siamo ancora qui: nel pub di un paesino di provincia, aspettando che un sabato pomeriggio qualunque si trasformi in oscurità. Lo so che fa ridere. Due più che ottantenni seduti al banco di un bar a bere due pinte di Guinness. Alla faccia della gastrite e della prostata ingrossata. Sembra la scena di un film di Fellini. Parlano di qualche mese. Tre, forse addirittura sei. Probabilmente quattro. So che non dovrei prendermela troppo. In fondo ho campato parecchio. Ci sono migliaia di bambini che muoiono ogni giorno. Anche ora: in questo preciso istante. Se sommando le loro giovani età fino a raggiungere i miei anni, avessi la certezza che questa mia uscita di scena potesse salvare loro la vita, beh… me ne andrei più tranquillo. So che non è così. Non lo sarà mai. Non esiste alcun contratto dove sta scritto che la vita è una questione di algebra. Non esiste alcun contratto, per la verità. Lei non lo sa ancora. Non ho il coraggio di dirglielo. Come si reagisce alla notizia che il tizio con cui dormi da più di mezzo secolo, tra qualche mese sarà solo un cuscino vuoto? Non lo so. Ho paura. Non solo per me. Anche per lei. La verità è che non siamo fatti per morire. Lo so che sembra infantile come ragionamento, ma vi posso garantire che le cose stanno proprio così. Ogni giorno vivi la vita ai cento all'ora con la voglia matta di alzare il piede dall'acceleratore. Poi, senza alcun preavviso, si accende la spia rossa e allora ti fermi a fare rifornimento. Sali di nuovo in macchina, giri la chiave e – colpo di scena – non accade nulla. Il motore non ruggisce più. È morto. Ma com'è possibile? Ti chiedi. Stavo viaggiando alla velocità della luce proprio un attimo fa. Avevo dei progetti, degli assi nella manica da giocare al momento giusto, e ora invece mi ritrovo con le mutande calate all'altezza delle ginocchia in attesa che un corpo estraneo penetri nelle mie stanze e faccia piazza pulita. Credetemi: anche a ottant'anni si fanno progetti. E uno di quelli più ricorrenti, ironia della sorte, è proprio quello di non morire. Comico, no? - Ci facciamo un altro giro? La guardo. E’ bellissima. Con il vestito a pois e gli occhiali in tinta. - Perché no! - esclamo - In fondo… Lascio la frase a metà. Lei aggrotta le sopracciglia. Forse ha capito. Forse no. Forse… chissà. Faccio segno al barista di portarne altre due. Lui annuisce. - Hai ancora un gran bel cuIo - le dico aggiustandomi il berretto. Lei sorride. Una carezza sulla guancia. Chiudo gli occhi e mi preparo al prossimo giro. Di Birra. Di Vita. Fedeli al Vinile lo trovate qui: Fedeli al Vinile lo trovate in libreria

(Alessandro Casalini Scrittore)

[thepsychewrites]

Little Dove | S. Rogers

Professor!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: College wasn’t what you were expecting it to be. You didn’t have many friends, you didn’t party on the weekends, and your homework was always in on time. Things take a turn when your World War II instructor, Professor Rogers, asks you to stay behind one day after class. What will happen when lines get blurred, feelings get hurt, and two people from vastly different life paths fall in love?

> Word Count: 2.2K 

> Warnings: 18+ MDNI; Age gap (Steve is in his early thirties, reader is twenty in this part), some mild language and thotty thoughts, history talk, no smut in this part. 

A/N: AHHHHHHHHH this series will ruin me. I can’t wait to put it out. It’s gonna be so good and nasty. While this part is not explicit itself, most of the series will be, so MDNI and 18+ guys. I have no idea when the next parts will be out as I have other wips that need to be worked on, but AHHHHHHH I’m so excited for this you guys have no idea. Comments, likes, reblogs, and feedback is super appreciated! Love you guys <3

Main Masterlist

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College was far from what you were expecting.

Parties, frats, friends, blacking out on a Tuesday in some randoms bathroom...

That’s what you were told was the “college experience”. Something everyone gets to go through as a right of passage once you get there. 

They were so, so wrong. 

Days spent in the library, nose in a book, pens out and ready to take notes- that’s what you got instead. It wasn’t the worst- your grades were fantastic and you were popular among the professors in your major’s department. 

Maybe it was just that you loved learning and would do anything for good grades. Maybe it was just your anxiety. It didn’t help that you were already a junior, only four semesters left to go until you graduated with such little social experience under your belt.

Your favorite professor of the semester had to be Professor Rogers, your World War Two instructor. To be fair- he was popular amongst most of the undergraduates in your major- the guys liking his in-depth descriptions of events of the 30s and 40s and the girls enjoying that and the view. You couldn’t lie, Professor Rogers was insanely handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. Or they could hear it in his voice when he spoke during lectures, the depth of it alone enough to make you blush. Or, maybe if they got lucky, you could smell how handsome he was from the high-end cologne he often wore, the amber and sandalwood notes drifting through the classroom and lingering there all day. 

It’s the class you were sitting in now, head down and hovering over your notebook as you quickly wrote notes while he spoke about the Battle of Midway. 

“The Japanese lost approximately three thousand and fifty seven men, four carriers, one cruiser, and hundreds of aircraft, while the United States lost approximately three hundred and sixty two men, one carrier, one destroyer, and one hundred and forty four aircrafts. Any questions?” Professor Rogers said, turning to face the class of twenty students, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue dress pants. 

Nearly ten hands raised, most of them just wanting to hear him speak for as long as possible before class was over. He chuckled lightly before he began answering question after question, your notes abandoned now that he was done with the lecture. You rested your head on your palm, your elbow dug into the solid wooden desk as you allowed yourself to zone out. His voice carried through the classroom, fluctuating slightly when he got to the last few questions. The room eventually got quiet, and you hadn’t realized most of the students had filtered out. Your attention was caught again when a large shadow loomed over your desk, amber and sandalwood flooding your senses, making you peer up. 

“Did today’s lesson bore you, Miss Y/l/n?” Professor Rogers asked, a gentle grin on his face.

You hummed, shaking your head. “Not too much. Your way of explaining Midway was great.” 

His grin grew into a full smile. “Well, I don’t think it helps that you’re already well versed on the topic. Not sure why you even took this course when you seem to know more about it than I do.” His pen dragged along the edge of your desk.

“It was this or Dr. Romanoff’s Russian Empire class and I’d much rather keep my gpa where it’s at.” You smiled back, the casual banter between you two a normalcy at this point. It was somehow easier for you to connect with your professors than it was your peers, and you and Professor Rogers had build a good rapport despite it only being a couple of weeks into the semester.  

His eyes were soft on yours and you internally wished you had a photographic memory to capture how he was looking at you. Something you’d gladly look back on any chance you got. 

“Have you started your research paper yet?” He asked, knowing you always liked to stay ahead of schedule. 

Your hands moved under the desk, your thumbs twiddling around each other. “I know this might sound shocking, but I have not. I’m just having a difficult time narrowing down a topic.” 

“Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out, but if you had any ideas you wanted to bounce around… this is my last class of the day. You can stay and we can discuss it if you’d like.” Professor Rogers offered, his brows slightly raised while he waited for an answer. 

You really did need help to figure out a topic. Plus, who could say no to spending extra time with Professor Rogers? Even if it was only to discuss your research paper. You’d be an idiot to pass up the opportunity. 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that a lot, Professor.” You agreed, placing your notebook and pen back in your book bag. 

“Great,” He started, walking down to his rectangular desk at the front and throwing a leather satchel over his shoulder. “We can move to my office if that’s alright, less noisy.” He said, motioning with his hand to the hallway outside. 

You nodded, grabbing your book bag and following his lead. His office was connected to the classroom, so it wasn’t a long walk until the both of you were inside and he was closing the door behind you. 

He cleared his throat, running a hand over his beard as he shuffled around to his desk chair. “Go ahead- have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” His voice was a little less formal now as he spoke to only you, something you took note of. It was still just as alluring, but less… intense, perhaps. 

It was the first time you had ever been in his office. The two of you were alone, on top of that. You allowed yourself to look around, noticing the various decorations he had that cozied up the place. He had a few framed pictures, none of them featuring any sort of wife or kids, a bookshelf with its contents in pristine condition, a rubix cube and some small wooden puzzles, his degree framed and hanging on the wall behind him, some posters of World War Two propaganda, and a coat rack in the corner. It seemed very fitting, to say the least. 

You sat yourself in the big leather chair across from his desk, crossing your legs at the thigh and untensing your shoulders. It was close enough to him that you could hear him breathing and your shoe was grazing the bottom of the desk, but far away enough to where you hoped he couldn’t see the flush in your face. 

“Would you like some water or coffee or anything?” Professor Rogers offered, taking a quick swig of his own mug of black coffee. 

“Oh, no thank you I’m fine.” 

He threw you a tight lipped smile before asking to see what notes you’ve gathered so far. You reached down into your bag, grabbing your notebook back out and opening to the messily scribbled on page. 

“So, my ideas for the topic are between the Blitzkrieg against Holland and Belgium, Dunkirk and Operation Dynamo, or Normandy and Operation Overlord.” You said, watching your professor read through the detailed notes you had jotted down about each one. 

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you.“You know- my colleagues weren’t wrong when they told me how great of a student you are. I guess I just didn’t expect this level of responsibility and brightness.” 

He’s talked about you?

If your face was hot before- it was nearly melting now. “Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ve always been really invested in my studies, so…”

“It’s admirable, Y/n. In my seven years of teaching here I have yet to come across a student of your caliber. You raise the bar, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, now you’re just being too nice-” 

He shook his head. “No, it’s completely true. Each time I grade something of yours I feel dumb. And I was a World War Two nerd back in the day.” 

Your heart was fluttering like crazy and you felt like if he kept complimenting you like this you’d just explode right there in his fancy, and probably super expensive, leather office chair. “Thank you, Professor. I apologize for making you feel stupid.” You joked with a grin, hoping to lighten the air that surrounded you, the one that was drowning you in his scent. 

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Apology accepted. Now back to your paper…” 

Professor Rogers sat there and talked with you, giving you amazing feedback on what topics he thought would work best, as well as writing down sources you could check out and use. By the time the two of you had wrapped up the sun was gone for the day, replaced by her sister glowing high and full in the obsidian sky. 

“Shoot-” You started, glancing down at your watch and noticing the time. It was a quarter to ten. “I should probably get going. I didn’t even realize what time it was, sorry for keeping you here so long.” You finally stood, gathering your strewn out notes and shoving them into your bag before you tossed it on your back. 

He stood too, reaching for his coat and satchel. “It’s not a problem, Y/n. Why don’t you let me drive you back to your dorm? It’s probably not too safe to walk there alone this late.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that- it’s okay.”  You attempted to decline, not wanting your professor to go out of his way to drive you home when you’ve already taken up his night. 

Once again, he shook his head. “You’re not asking, I offered and I insist. I’m sure you know how sketchy this campus can be after dark.” 

You bit at your lip. “Are you sure?” 

He moved to the door, his car keys twirling between his fingers. “Positive. C’mon.” He said as he held his office door open, the lights in the classroom already off. You threw him a sweet smile, slipping between the open door and waiting for him as he locked his office up. 

The walk to the parking lot wasn’t long and was spent mostly in silence. The both of you came to a stop next to the only car left in the lot- a deep red Chrysler 300, and he moved to open the passenger door for you. You whispered a timid thank you.

His car was in such good condition you wondered if your professor was a secret germaphobe. It smelled like it had just been cleaned recently, too, but a single Black Ice air freshener hung from the rear view mirror, swaying slightly from the door closing once you were in. Your breathing was labored, heart nearly in your ass at the thought of being in your professor's car. Alone. 

He climbed in just a moment later, shoving the keys into the ignition and letting the car whir to life. He looked over at you, already watching his movements intently. 

“Where to?” He asked, that familiar grin back on his face. 

You told him which residence hall you lived in, albeit a lot shakier than you intended to. He gave a nod, turning onto the main road in the direction of your dorm. 

It was silent for a moment, but his voice rang out, startling you a bit. “I hope you didn't mind me being too forward with wanting to drive you home, but I would have been uncomfortable making you walk back by yourself this late.” 

Oh fuck-

Oh sweet Jesus fucking Christ- 

His hand had found a home on your thigh as he spoke, his warmth radiating through your jeans and into your skin, traveling somewhere that made you wanna- 

“It’s fine, I just didn’t want to inconvenience you.” You managed to get out, completely and utterly baffled at how composed you sounded when you were on the verge of whimpering from his huge hand being so close to your- 

He squeezed his hand down, your denim clad flesh tingling under his palm. And just as quickly as he put it there he retracted it, settling it back down on his own leg. “Not an inconvenience in the slightest. I promise.” He assured.

You hadn’t realized the car had stopped in front of your residence hall until your professor put the car in park. You glanced out the window before speaking. “Thanks again for driving me here, Professor Rogers.” 

“Steve. You can just call me Steve- outside of class, I should specify.” He said, eyes finding yours in the low light of the car's interior. 

You nearly choked on your breath. 

Outside of class? What the fuck does that mean? 

“Okay... well, thank you again- Steve.” You emphasized the name, smiling as you opened the passenger door and stepped out, grabbing your bag. Before you could close the door he called out. 

“Have a good night, Y/n. See you Wednesday.” 

“Yeah, see you then.” You said, finally shutting the car door and turning to walk inside, your eyes wide and your stomach doing an entire gymnastics routine. Your keys fumbled in your hands and you internally groaned, hoping he wasn’t still watching you even though you knew his car hadn’t left yet. 

Your roommate, Yelena, was pacing in the kitchen when you got back, a half-eaten tub of ice cream held against her stomach. 

“Dude! Where the hell have you been? You never get home this late- I was contemplating calling the cops.” She yelled through a bite of cookie dough. 

The day's events swirled in your mind, a slight smile pulling at your lips. Your back leaned against the door, your thoughts racing. 

“Oh you know- the library.” You lied. 

“The library closes at eight on Mondays.” 

You giggled, a dreamy stare lingering in your eyes as you made your way to your room. “Uh huh- goodnight Yelena” 

-

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[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

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The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact: Date #2

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 6.4k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, so much fluff (adkshdaslkfj...yeah. fluff.)

a/n: please, if you feel ok with it, let me know how this date was! Remember, you guys are deciding the outcome. Every little bit of feedback, even if it’s just unintelligible screaming, helps. I’d be very interested to hear your thoughts on how this date differed from last week’s!

Date #2

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It’s safe to say that by this point, you’ve replayed last Saturday’s date in your mind about sixty thousand times. Yet, despite your near-constant analysis, you find that you’re no more prepared for today’s date than before.

Perhaps it has something to do with the way it was described last week, giving you a little insight to how different this date would be compared to the relaxed atmosphere before.

Classic. Romantic. Picture perfect.

Your mind races with the possibilities; heaven knows that could be any of the boys. But you can’t help but expect one in particular to appear on your doorstep.

You shuffle back and forth before your mirror, triple checking your reflection. Jungkook texted you earlier this week with some instructions.

Dresscode was set to casual-nice. Whatever that means.

Make sure you’ve got your T-money card, which gives you access to the Subway.

Your green sweater vest is tucked neatly into your black skirt, giving you a posh academia vibe that you’ve honestly been dying to try out for a while. Hair falling in thick ringlets around your shoulders, the look is complete with black suede boots that only extend up to your ankle.

“Oh yeah,” you grin at your reflection. “I look good.”

And just there, resting atop the sleeves of your turtleneck, sits Hobi’s bracelet. The word ‘jagi’ is facing the ceiling, which is enough to soften your smile, remembering Hobi’s sweet date.

You’d gotten Jungkook’s permission to send a little message to Hobi, thanking him profusely for the date. It’d been fun to get to chat with him for a minute, already missing him. If you’re honest with yourself, you miss hanging out with all of them. It’s only been a couple of weeks since you were last all together, but it feels like months.

The upside to this Saturday is the fact that (after you’d sent some choice texts to Jungkook), you were given a time as to when your date would appear. Which is why you’re sitting on the edge of your seat at six o’clock ticks ever closer, waiting for the tell-tale knock on the door.

Every time a car turns onto your street, you’re leaping up to peek out the window, holding your breath until it passes by. However, this time you find yourself nearly passing out as a sleek black car rolls to a stop in front of your house.

You lose all ability to think straight when Kim Taehyung steps out of the car, straightening his beige cable knit sweater and puffing his cheeks out as he exhales. His black hair tumbles into his eyes, just long enough to brush up against his brows and make him brush it away.

Stumbling back from the window before he can see you spying on him, you bring a hand up to your chest.

“Ok, ok,” you rush to compose yourself. “Holy-”

A happy knock on your door cuts you off, and the only thing you can hope for is that you don’t say something stupid within the first sixty seconds of this date. If you can make past the first sixty seconds, you should be good, right?

Right?

You don’t have time to ponder as you force yourself to take a deep breath and open up the door. Sure enough, there stands Taehyung. Looking like he just stepped out of a French renaissance painting, complete with a smile.

A smile that’s meant for you, you realize with no shortage of shock. Grinning at you while he tilts his head to one side, his hair falls across his face from it’d been semi-parted.

“Hi, my name is Kim Taehyung,” he taps his heels together and extends his hand out. As he swoops into a bow, you can’t help the giggle the bubbles up at the silly scene before you. Gently placing your hand in his, you watch with wide eyes as he brings it to his lips. Planting a soft kiss to your knuckles, he looks up at you from behind his hair. “And you are?”

At this point, you’ve realized that there’s no stopping the mad blush crawling up your neck. Attempting to shake it off with a laugh, you shake your head.

“Are you lost or something?”

Taehyung gasps, stepping back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. “C’mon!” He groans, his smile never faltering. “I was trying to be classy!”

Shrugging, you grab your bag equipped with the essentials (keys, chapstick, mints...more mints), and lock the door behind you. Linking your arm through Taehyung’s and delighting in the momentary surprise that graces his features, you smile up at him.

“Where to, Mr. Kim?”

“Ah! That’s better.” The two of you make it to the car, Taehyung opening the passenger side before hustling over to the driver’s side. Once he’s in and buckled up, he answers your question. “Choose a number between one and ten.” Coming to stop at a stop sign, he looks to you expectantly.

“One.”

He raises his brows, making a show of turning the blinker on to signal turning right. “Good choice. We’ll get there in about...twelve minutes.” You nod, smiling softly. “How have you been?”

“Good. It’s been weird, not getting to hang out with everyone,” you admit. Tae hums in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s been weird not seeing you around the house. What have you been up to?”

The two of you get lost in conversation, relating your most recent horror stories from work or your classes. Taehyung listens raptly, snorting when you mention that you considered bringing your homework with you on the date.

“Seriously!” You laugh. “There’s so much of it. I swear, my professors have all ganged up on me.”

Tae turns into a closed off parking lot, swiping a small card in front of the monitor and pulling forward when the gates swing open. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Hopefully I keep you entertained enough to keep you from doing homework,” he teases.

You gape at the huge building before you, the architectural design enough to have your mouth running dry. It looks like it was taken straight out of ancient Greece, the pillars stretching up high and boasting chiseled divots. Leading to the entrance is a path of hanging wisteria, the soft purple petals swaying in the breeze.

In fact, if you hadn’t currently been sitting in a car that was definitely a product of the 21st century, you would have thought that you’d accidentally time-traveled.

Taehyung’s soft chuckle brings you back to reality, and you watch as he throws the car in park and rushes around to open your door before you even have time to twitch a muscle. You find yourself torn between gaping at the building and the man in front of you, as he extends a hand out to you and pulls you out of the car.

“What is this place?” You ask, afraid to even blink for fear of everything disappearing. Tae gently links your arm through his, which in retrospect was probably a good idea. Heaven knows you’re at risk of wandering off and never returning.

The evening sky does wonders for Taehyung, the sleepy golden sunlight settling over him. “It’s a project that’s been in the works for a long time, actually. They’re bringing together different artworks - some are replicas that they’ve been permitted to use - from all over the world. The best of the best, all in one place.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking up as you enter the small tunnel of hanging wisteria. “It’s not open to the public yet, they just finished moving the final pieces last week.”

You blink, looking up at one of your closest friends with awe. Squeezing his arm, you take a moment to pause and look around at all the beautiful wisteria.

“I’m friends with some of the curators here,” Tae explains when he catches your eye. “They said we could have a look around...if you want to…?”

In response, you wiggle out of his grasp and take off toward the entrance, Taehyung laughing and hurrying after you.

The art museum is, in a word, massive. The two of you fall into a companionable silence as you take in the artwork, occasionally wandering away from each other to get a closer look at something. Every so often Taehyung will call your name, motioning for you to look at a piece he especially likes.

There’s a point where Taehyung is trying to explain the difference between the replicas and the real oil paintings. “See, this one doesn’t have the same kind of sheen, so it’s obviously fake.” He reaches out to touch it, but freezes as soon as his fingers touch the painting.

“What?” You ask, craning your neck to see. He turns to face you with a horrified expression.

“It’s real.”

You choke a laugh, seeing the way he slowly removes his hands from the painting as though afraid to set off a bomb. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, looking up and down the hallway before whispering to you. “Run. They’ll kill me if they find out that I touched that thing with my bare hands. It’s like...three hundred years old or something.”

“Wha-”

“Split up!” He hisses, taking off down the opposite end of the corridor. Heart pounding even as you laugh, you run the other way. Taehyung’s laugh bounces off the walls, only making you laugh even more.

It doesn’t take long before the sun has dipped below the horizon and the two of you find yourselves in a spot dedicated to different sculptures. Sitting down on the bench in front of them, you realize just how long you’ve been up and running around.

“Wow,” you breathe out, Taehyung grunting in agreement. “So you weren’t caught?”

“Not yet, at least.” He fidgets a little beside you before speaking again. “Actually, there’s one more thing left to do here.”

You glance over at him, delighted to see that his hair has somehow grown even fluffier over the course of the date. “What is it?”

“Let me show you.” He hops up, leading the way to the end of the corridor. He enters a small room that’s completely empty save for a white backdrop and a camera.

He walks to the camera, making sure it’s on before gesturing for you to walk before the backdrop.

“Think of it like one giant photo booth,” he explains. “Pose, and I’ll choose a backdrop for you.”

You chew on your lip, feeling a little awkward as you stand before the camera. “What should I do? I’m not used to people taking pictures of me.”

Taehyung frowns. “What do you mean? I take pictures of you all the time.”

Against the start white backdrop, there’s no chance he doesn’t see your blush. “No, er...not like that. I’m not used to posing.”

“Oh.” He steps back, crossing his arms. “Just...smile?”

He snaps a few photos before rushing over to a small printer. You wander over as well, laughing when you see what’s become of your photos.

There you are, smiling awkwardly where Mona Lisa usually sits in her painting. “Oh, that’s horrible.”

“Da Vinci would love it,” Taehyung objects.

“Here, I’ll take your picture.” You run over to the camera while Taehyung steps up front, placing both hands on his hips while looking off into the distance. Selecting the ‘Starry Night’ background, you take the picture.

“Oooh, very nice!” Tae croons when he sees the photo. “But I want both of us in this.”

“What do you mean, both? There’s only enough room for one-”

“We’ll make it work,” Taehyung says as he drags you in front of the camera. Fiddling with it for a moment, he turns back to you. “Ok, it’s set to take four photos in a row. Stay still.”

“How are you going to…?” Your words fade out as a light in the camera begins to blink, counting down. Taehyung comes around you, slipping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Just as the camera flashes for the first photo, Taehyung decides to try his hand at tickling you mercilessly.

You squeal, trying to get away but unable to as Tae keeps his iron-like grip on you. “Stay still!” He scolds in a serious tone, even as a smile is pushing its way onto his lips.

“S-stop!” You can hardly breathe as the attack continues and the camera flashes again. “Tae! You horrible human being-”

Suddenly he drops the attack, standing up straight and smiling at the camera. You take the opportunity just as the final flash goes off to shove him, laughing maniacally. He shouts, stumbling backward dramatically. Taking the temporary distraction to your advantage, you hurry over to where the pictures are being printed. As each photo comes out, you can hardly hold back your laughter.

Picking up the first photo, taken just as Taehyung had decided to attack you, you turn around to face him. “Look at how evil you look here!”

He saunters over, a lazy smile on his face. “Oh-ho, classic.”

Sure enough, the other photos are just as entertaining, although you can’t help but groan at the second photo which shows you with a mixture of laughter and annoyance as Taehyung fights a smile. “Oof, this one isn’t the most flattering…”

“Does that mean I get to keep it?” Taehyung asks quietly, taking the photo from your hands and looking at it closely. “You look cute.”

You blink, but shrug it off. Taehyung has always been a bit more forthcoming with his flirtatious manner, but it’s just now that you realize there was actually some sort of truth behind all of those silly remarks over the past few years.

Huh.

Taehyung checks the time, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, we have to hurry!”

“Why?” You manage to ask before Taehyung takes off in a brisk walk. He grabs your hand, giving you no choice but to try to keep up.

He doesn’t directly answer your question. “You brought your T-money, right?”

“Yeah...but why?”

“Why do I feel like we’re going to get in trouble for this?”

“We won’t. I will.” Taehyung doesn’t look the least bit bothered as he slips a hat on over his hair. “That is, if we get caught.”

“So no pressure.” You say sarcastically, wishing you had some sort of invisibility cloak.

You never knew that the subway could be such a rush. It’s a Saturday night, people are filing in and out of the Subway at a rapid pace as they chat jovially together. Taehyung keeps his head down, attempting to blend in and completely failing.

“Tae, you’re going to be recognized.”

He shrugs. “I do this all the time. Hasn’t happened yet.”

You furrow your brows. “You do? I had no idea.”

“It’s nice to pretend to be normal every once in a while,” he confesses, looking down at his phone. “Just don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret I’ve managed to keep for years.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Pulling up the timer app on his phone, he grins mischievously at you. “Ok. We have 60 minutes to get to three different places.” He holds up his phone for you to see. “First, we’re going to that night market you hit up all the time to get Tteok-bokki, which you love probably way too much-”

“Hey! It’s a healthy obsession!” You defend yourself, only earning an eyebrow raise in return.

“Whatever you say, weirdo. Then, we’re going to that walnut shop - you know the one at the end of the line?”

“We’re going to a walnut shop?”

“Yeah. Namjoon’s got this new obsession with them, so I promised I’d pick some up for him”

You snort. “Ok, and the last spot?”

Taehyung lowers his phone, toggling the timer to 60 minutes and looking at you and chuckling. “It’s a surprise. You ready?”

“Wait, how on earth are we supposed to get to all of these places within an hour?” You ask, incredulous. “Especially if we’re stopping to eat or buy stuff?”

Finger hovering over the start button, Taehyung looks around the busy subway station. “We hurry.” With that, he links his hand with yours and begins the timer. “Run!”

Taking off like thieves on the run, you swipe your T-money card and hurtle past the barrier, rushing to see which line to take. “It’s the red line, right?” You ask, roles switching as it’s now you dragging Taehyung behind you. “Hurry! It’s already here!”

Rushing over to where the red line train is just pulling in, you leap through the doors as soon as they open. Taehyung is right behind you, and the two of you stand off to the side with your faces down and trying to hide your giggles. He leans down to whisper something in your ear, your head automatically tilting to hear him better.

“Keep an eye out for our stop,” he urges, squeezing your hand. You nod, remaining on high alert even as you’re bursting with excitement. You know that if anybody found out that you and Taehyung were out here, looking very much like a couple, you would be toast.

The rush goes straight to your head, pumping you full of adrenaline as your stop approaches. A thought hits you, and you hurry to voice it before you have to jump out and run.

“How are we going to get you through the night market without being recognized?”

“Oh,” Taehyung angles his body toward the door, preparing. “I talked with the owner of the stall you go to. He promised to have the food ready and waiting for us, we just have to meet him in the back.”

You still have no idea how you’re going to make it through the market without being recognized, but there’s no more time for questions as the train slows to a stop and the doors slide open. In a single heartbeat the two of you leap out and take off toward the stairs that will lead you out into the night air.

It’s embarrassing just how much you’re panting by the time you reach the top of the stairs, but you shrug it off as you see the huge crowd mulling outside of the market. Without giving you a single second to doubt, Taehyung plunges into the crowd.

The two of you weave in and out, a startled laugh coming from you as the two of you pass by a stall filled with BTS merchandise. Taehyung hesitates for a moment, almost looking like he wants to stop in, but thinks better of it.

The people around you are so focused on the different stalls and their night out that they pay you no mind as you pass by, bumping into people with every step you take. If only they knew that it was Kim Taehyung bumping into them.

He never lets go of your hand as you make your way to your favorite food stall, for fear of losing you in the crowd. Glancing back at you, Taehyung shouts above the din.

“It’s been almost eight minutes!”

You nod, once again wondering how on earth you’re going to make it to all the places Taehyung has planned. Your mouth runs a little dry as you see the long line of people waiting at the food stall, all of them wanting a taste of the delicious tteok-bokki. Going in a wide circle around the crowd, the two of you end up behind the stall where it’s surprisingly empty.

Taehyung wraps on the back entrance, loud enough to be heard over the loud night. A moment later an elderly man sticks his head out, eyes crinkling with a smile as he sees the two of you.

“Ah, I was just wondering when you’d be showing up! Let me grab your order.” He winks at you guys before disappearing back into the little stall. You take a moment to breathe, looking up at the starry sky. Taehyung joins you, smiling softly.

“Why 60 minutes?” You ask quietly. Taehyung shrugs.

“I make this run whenever I can,” he responds quietly. “I’ve never been able to do it in less than an hour. Thought that it’d be fun to try to break the record with you.”

You laugh quietly. “How come I didn’t know that about you? Why didn’t you invite me before?”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, his other hand still hanging loosely in yours. “The pact.” When you look at him with a confused expression, he goes on. “Think about it: have you ever hung out with any of us just one on one? At least, intentionally?”

You frown, running through your memories. “I mean, yeah, but-”

“Intentionally, though.”

Automatically your thoughts run to the memory of Hobi and that night you’d vented in his car for a solid two hours, tears running down your face. Or that time you’d gone shopping with Taehyung, that was intentional wasn’t it?

“We went shopping that one time,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was an emergency of sorts. Remember? You’d spilled on your shirt and had an interview for your internship soon,” he reminds you. “I took you shopping and dropped you off after.”

You remember that, but there were other times that you just spent time with one of the boys on purpose, right? Taehyung sees your thoughts, giving you another example.

“And that time you sat and talked with Hobi in his car for hours? He’d seen you walking and offered to give you a ride. That obviously wasn’t planned.”

You blink. “How did you know about that?”

Taehyung turns a little pink under the starlight, realizing that he wasn’t supposed to know that. “Hey, it’s not my fault. He wouldn’t shut up about it. But that’s not the point!” He quickly tries to backtrack, mussing his hair yet again.

“Right,” you sigh. “So what does that have to do with the pact? And what does the pact have to do with you and this weird route of yours?” You laugh, Taehyung chuckling nervously along with you.

He opens his mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opens and the same old man appears with a bag of your food. “Here you go!” He happily hands it over to Taehyung, who thanks him and hands him the money and thanks him profusely. You also thank him, smiling warmly.

As soon as the door shuts again, Taehyung is leading you back out into the crowd. He keeps a firm grip on the food, and you stare at it longingly. The two of you manage to make it out of the crowd without any complications, except for the fact that you had to drag Tae away from the merchandise booth.

Descending the stairs to the subway, you glance over at the food again. “Are we gonna eat that, or…?”

He squints at the screen that shows the different lines and arrival times. “We have four minutes before the yellow line gets here.” Stopping at the bottom of the stairs and standing off to the side, he hands you your food, chuckling as you tear into it. He shares it with you, devouring the food at an alarming rate.

It’s embarrassing to say that the two of you finish it with thirty seconds to spare.

“Wow,” you groan, rubbing your stomach as Tae throws the container away. “We’re messed up.”

He chuckles at you, checking the timer. “That, we are. But it was good, right?”

“Ugh, so good. I swear, that place is magic.”

This time, instead of running to the platform, you waddle. You get there just before the doors close, sliding in between the door and pole, which you cling to. Taehyung stands across from you, resting against the pole as well and smiling.

“Ready to go buy some walnuts?”

The question has you giggling. “Definitely.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, waiting for your stop to arrive. The walnut shop sits on the other end of the line, one of the final stops. It takes a few minutes to get there, each second ticking down. Once there’s only one stop left before you have to get off, you ask Taehyung to check the timer.

He raises his brows. “We’re making pretty good time. Thirty minutes left.”

“Nice!” You give him a high five, smiling simply because he is. “Let’s get these walnuts!”

Nevermind the fact that people listening in to your conversation think you’re crazy.

Once you make it to your stop, the two of you settle for a brisk walk rather than running. Together, you walk down the street hand in hand while trying to find the walnut shop.

“You never finished explaining that thing about the pact,” you recall. You’d nearly forgotten amongst the rush of eating and the sleepy subway ride after. Taehyung glances down at you, almost looking a little bummed out that you remembered.

“Oh...right.” He stops on the corner and presses the crosswalk sign. “Well, that’s one of the things about the pact. I never invited you to come along with me because I couldn’t. It doesn’t allow for intentional one-on-one activities.”

“You know how weird that is, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I know. But that’s how it is, I guess. All of those other times you were with any of us, alone, it wasn’t on purpose. It just worked out like that. You know, something about keeping everything even. And, spending too much time alone with you would probably lead to breaking the pact.”

Nodding, you tuck this information away for further examination. “Sounds like you guys thought of everything.”

“Almost.”

“Ok,” you begin to cross the quiet street, this side of Seoul starkly different in comparison with the busy night market. “So what does this route have to do with any of that? Why did you even start doing this in the first place? It’s...all over the place.”

Taehyung chews on the inside of his cheek. “Well...oh! We’re here!”

You roll your eyes as Taehyung bounds up the stairs of the walnut shop, which appears to be nearly closed. Why they’re still open at this time of night is beyond you. Do they really have people coming out to buy walnuts at all hours of the night?

The little shop is warm, and the young girl behind the counter looks anything but shocked as Taehyung enters. She immediately leans down to grab a small bag, placing it in front of her.

“Just the one bag?”

You pause to wonder just how many times Taehyung has frequented this shop for the employees to be so familiar with him. The thought makes you smile, picturing Taehyung sneaking in here late at night just to feed Namjoon’s odd walnut addiction.

“Just the one should be fine,” Tae responds, looking at you over his shoulder with a warm look. You don’t notice it, lost in your own thoughts as you wander over to a display.

Once he’s finished with the transaction, he wanders over to you. “Looks like we might just make it.”

You turn around, looking at him expectantly. “How much time is left?”

“Sixteen minutes. Let’s go,” he holds out his arm for you, which you rest your hand on the inner crook of his elbow. Bidding the girl goodnight, the two of you wander back out into the night.

“Soooo...where to next?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

The subway on this end of the city is much less crowded, it’s easy to find the blue line and hop on. You realize that you’re heading back to a stop fairly close to the night market, which makes you wonder.

“Why’d we go to the end of the line before this?” You ask. “It would’ve been much quicker to go here second.”

“Because,” Taehyung sits beside you, stretching his legs out. “It’s a spot that you can’t rush in. It’s meant to be the final destination.”

Giggling a little, you nudge him. “That sounds a little morbid.”

The Han River glistens from your viewpoint atop the bridge. Sitting next to Taehyung, your feet dangling off the edge, you take a deep breath.

“I see why this had to be the final stop,” you say as you breathe out. The entire Han River lays at your feet, the city lights bouncing off the surface and creating a dazzling atmosphere to rival that of the stars above you. People walk along the edge or ride bikes, their small figures making you realize just how high up you are.

“Mmm,” Taehyung hums beside you. He leans back, glancing over at you as you take in the view. “This is always the last stop.”

You take a moment to allow the sounds of the night wrap around you, tilting your head up to the stars and watching them wink down at you. A profound contentment settles over you, a smile playing on your lips.

“And my last question?” You mumble out. “What’s so special about this route?”

The quiet moment seems to be enough to urge Taehyung to finally answer you. He sits up, admiring the way you look, sitting here on top of the world.

“About a year ago, we all talked about the normal, everyday things you like to do. What we would like to do.”

“I remember,” you muse. “You guys were talking about what you’d do if you weren’t famous. Romanticizing the mediocre.”

“Right.” He slings his arms over the railing, looking out over the people enjoying their Saturday night. “You talked about how you always go to that night market to get tteok-bokki. You basically swore by that one stall, it was hilarious. But you looked so...I don’t know, I just remember thinking, I’ve never seen someone so happy about some cheap night market food. But it made me happy. And then you said that you like to grab your food and head out to the Han River. Enjoy the evening with some good food and a view.”

A slight breeze picks up, ruffling Taehyung’s hair. He hardly notices, wearing an adorable look of concentration as he continues. “And that just seemed...I don’t know, it became this thing for me. Those late nights at work or when we were away, I’d always stop and wonder if you’d gotten to do what made you so happy. But then, I realized that it wasn’t enough for me to just sit and wonder. I wanted to- I wanted...to be there with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of the faraway look in his eyes. How many times had he stopped and wondered if you had gotten to do something that made you happy? Sitting beside this man who is such a force for good, you find that you are entirely out of your element.

“So, whenever I had a chance in the evenings, I’d make up an excuse about picking up some more walnuts for Namjoon’s stash, and I’d head out. They told me to be back in an hour, hence the sixty minutes. But I’d take the train to the night market, go straight to that stall and pick up some tteok-bokki. I knew that I couldn’t just call you up and ask to go with you, and I was kind of selfish and didn’t want the other guys to come along. It was...I don’t know, I wanted it to be our thing. So I’d go there and hope I’d run into you. Make it look like an accident, so we could hang out. Just the two of us.” He laughs quietly to himself. “I sound like a stalker, don’t I?”

You only manage to shake your head, at a complete loss for words. Taehyung continues on, feeling the need to get it all out.

“In my mind, I thought that it would at least take you about fifteen or so minutes to get from the night market to the Han, so I’d run down to grab the walnuts and then head up here,” he gestures to the bridge. “And I’d look out and see if I could spot you. Maybe run down to meet you, pretending to bump into you. Give me...an excuse to see you.”

Taehyung glances over at you for a minute, looking a little embarrassed. You stare back, the shock evident on your face.

“Really?” It’s the only word you manage to get out. He smiles gingerly, huffing out a breath.

“Really. Does it creep you out?”

You snort, scooting over a little closer. Taehyung instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“No.”

“No?”

Taking a deep breath, you take a leap. “Am I allowed to tell you that I sometimes wished I’d run into you?”

Taehyung tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an indescribable emotion. “I don’t think you should.”

You frown. “Why not?”

The moon and the stars as your only witness, Taehyung gives you a long look before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He lingers for a few seconds, his warm lips reminding you of spring after a bitter winter.

When he pulls away, he gazes down at you and you just know that he’s memorizing this moment. Tucking it away for a rainy day, similar to the rain clouds behind his eyes. “I’m scared of hoping.”

In the span of five syllables, he’s completely shattered your heart. It’s now that you recognize that look in his eyes.

How many nights has he sat up here, waiting for you to come along? Hoping that you’d bump into him at the night market, delighted to see him?

Hope can be just as devastating as it is uplifting.

Taehyung sees how you’re dying to reassure him, dying to just give your heart over to him at that moment. He knows it, sees how it could play out. But before you can open your mouth, he’s stopping you.

“For now, let’s just enjoy the view and try to stay warm,” he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. You rest your head against his shoulder, heart still aching from his small confession. “Don’t worry, jagiya. Just remember to have fun, ok? You’ve still got five dates, don’t forget that.”

How could you?

Time ticks by all too quickly as the two of you remain snuggled up together atop the bridge. Eventually you fall into a quiet conversation, Taehyung chatting happily about how he had a mini crisis on night when he came on this route and Namjoon complained about having not finished the walnuts from last night. He’d had to find some other sort of enticing treat that would act as a cover for him.

“When it comes down to it,” he says as the two of you enter the subway and find a seat. “I didn’t want the boys to find out, because I didn’t want them to think I was going behind their backs. They all deserve a chance, and me trying to find a way to bend the rules wouldn’t have gone over well.”

You marvel at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, sighing contentedly as the subway rumbles on. “You always have been a rule-breaker.”

You’re exhausted from having run all over Seoul, nearly falling asleep as you get back to Taehyung’s car. He grins at you, turning on the heater and beginning the drive back to your apartment. Your eyes struggle to remain open, slipping closed every few seconds.

“Sleep, jagiya,” Taehyung urges. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“N-no,” you say between yawns. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung chuckles to himself when you fall asleep about thirty seconds later. The sound drifts into your dreams, where you dream of art museums and the Han river.

Needless to say, you’re a bit disappointed to be woken up from your beautiful dream when Taehyung opens up the passenger side door and crouches before you. He can’t help but laugh at how adorable you look, completely disoriented and staring at him like you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” he whispers. “We’re home.”

Gently unbuckling your seatbelt, Taehyung helps you out of the car and only continues to laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head in his chest.

“I’m so tired,” you groan. “I wanna go to bed.”

“Well, you can. You just have to unlock your door first, jagi.”

Somehow, in your half-asleep state you manage to fish your keys out of your bag. Taehyung helps you unlock the door, swooping in to help you when you nearly trip over your doorway.

“Woah, watch where you’re going,” he teases. Suddenly the world turns sideways as Tae places his hands under your knees and around your waist, literally sweeping you off your feet. “How about we get you to bed in one piece?”

Some small, semi-conscious part of your brain is currently screaming about how embarrassing yet attractive this entire situation is, but for the life of you, you can’t tell why. Instead, you opt to nuzzle in a little closer to Tae’s sweater as he uses his foot to kick the door shut.

“I love this sweater,” you mumble, eyes falling shut again. “You look so good in this sweater, did you know that?”

“Oh...thanks. And yes, that’s why I wore it.”

You hiss, swatting at his chest. “That was very narcissistic of you.”

“You’re too tired to walk, but you’re using words like narcissistic?” He shoots back. Making his way through the dark house, he enters your room and sets you down on the edge of the bed. You sit up straight, watching as his silhouette turns on your bedside lamp. Squinting at him, he crouches down before you, resting a light hand on your knee.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back. “You need anything before I go?”

Always finding a way to push the limits, you smirk down at him. “Are kisses really off-limits- ow!” You rub your knee where he just flicked it, appalled at him as he straightens up.

“Don’t get greedy,” he teases with a raised brow. Heading out of the room, he turns back to look at you from the doorway. “Goodnight.”

It’s this moment that you memorize. The way the light from the lamp barely reaches him, his dark hair a little messy and a tired smile on his face. The way he leans up against your door, looking for all the world like he belongs here.

“Goodnight, Tae.”

Your ears strain to hear his footsteps, a fissure forming in your heart as you hear him closing the door and driving off into the night. Eventually, sleep takes over.

Even as you dream, the feeling of being wrapped up in Taehyung’s arms while sitting above the Han River lingers.

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again, your opinion matters! especially in this series! if you’re comfortable with it, please please please comment or send me an ask with your thoughts! (i.e. chemistry, how this date differed from Hobi’s date, ect.) thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next Saturday with date #3!!

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